Enslavement
by littlemusical
Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!
1. Prologue

**Hey everyone. So as promised I re-wrote this chapter to **_**Enslavement**_ **because I wasn't entirely happy with the first outcome. I hope you're all still interested in reading** **and I hope you enjoy how I've tweaked it.** **As I said before, this story of Mistress and slave was inspired by my reading of '**_**Serving Mistress Santana**_**' by lizzylizbian so please, go over to livejournal and read the story because it's fantastic.**

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!**

**Disclaimer: ****Glee and all its rights and privileges have nothing to do with me...unless Ryan Murphy turns out to be a long-lost relative. Hmm. I doubt it.**

**Prologue**

The story began just outside the city of _Mérida, Venezuela._ Along the winding paths that led up from _La Rosa Lake_ was a great extravagant house that spoke of wealth, power and honour. With large, wide towers and ancient brickwork that resembled that of a castle, the home had been dubbed (by the city folk) _El Palacio, _an affectionate name for such a beautiful thing.

The Lopez family had been in possession of _El Palacio_ for as long as could be remembered. Passed on through each growing generation, the luxuries of its world were envied by many but only those of Lopez blood knew of the curse that came along with it. Each Master or Mistress of the house lived a life filled with business and solitary. It was trying and difficult but it had to be done to keep the wealth and power secured in the family line.

Love was a foreign concept to that of a Lopez. Although many married and had children it was never real or done for the right thing. Marriage was a necessity, as was procreating. The people of _Mérida_ felt it was legend that no Lopez had ever been in love or in fact,_ would _ever be. They were all about dominance and strength. They demanded respect and love played no part in their affairs. To summaries, love didn't exist in the Lopez world...or perhaps, it did...

...GLEE.

The world of _El Palacio_ had been turned upside down in no more than thirty seconds flat after receiving word that the Mistress of the house would be returning from her trip to Paris in less than an hour's time. Servants darted here and there frantically, dusting, wiping and vacuuming as they tried with all their might to rectify the mess they had created over her weekly absence.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to them all that the Mistress was returning after so short a time. She could be gone weeks, _even months _on business without so much as a backwards glance so it was unusual and a little unnerving to hear of her sudden return to the country.

"Stop being such a coward Kurt and get on with it!" A tiny brunette clad in a white and black work dress bellowed, looking up to the gentlemen anxiously ascending a ladder to a twinkling silver chandelier.

"If you want it done quicker _Rachel_," he hissed venomously, "do it yourself!"

"Ha! Me! I'm a lady. I don't climb ladders," she replied indignantly, hands set firmly on her waist, looking surprised.

"You'd be up here like a shot if the Mistress demanded it," Kurt growled back.

"People, people enough of this." A blonde, dressed much the same as Rachel strolled into the grand hall where the argument was taking place. She had a defiant look about her, a strong calm in her bold green eyes and although no head servant walked amongst them she was looked upon as the leader. Her name was Quinn.

"Tell Rachel to leave me alone so I can get on with my work," Kurt asked. He had now reached the top of the ceiling and had begun to delicately dust the crystal gems that made up the opulence that was the chandelier.

"Well forgive me for wanting everything to be perfect," the diva replied, throwing her arms up in the air dramatically, "I knew we shouldn't have slacked off. I told everyone to at least clean a little a day but _no_, you all laughed and teased me and now we're all gonna suffer."

"Oh hush," Quinn chuckled, "Mistress Santana will understand I am sure."

"I don't think so. The whole point of our being here is to serve her," Rachel sniffled and before Quinn could seek to comfort her, the brunette was gone, darting over to the other side of the room to help a wheelchair-bound servant clean the windows.

Mistress Santana surely was a source of fear within _El Palacio._ Quinn and the gardener Mercedes had been the first amongst the servants to be brought to the ancient house. Santana had a thirsty enthusiasm for slave auctions and had spent the last few years of her reign collecting new servants to do her bidding. She wasn't a particularly cruel Mistress but she did demand respect from her employees. There had only been two or three incidents in which a servant had been severely punished because of their failures. These very memories wedged into the household and were dark indeed. Quinn and the others would never talk of them for they spoke of the true nature of their Mistress and how cold she really was.

"Look alive everyone," Quinn clapped her hands to get the others attention, "we have about twenty five minutes until Mistress Santana arrives. Tina align the gallery work, Kurt buff the doorknobs, Rachel, stop trying to strangle Artie and polish the floors already. This house needs to be pristine!"

...GLEE.

The jet black limousine zoomed down the twisting path that lay beyond _Mérida_, faster than a bullet from a gun. Its roaring engine alarmed the wildlife, sending birds and other creatures darting to their safe havens. The peace had certainly been disturbed, dust rolled up in its path, trees trembled against its swift drive and the air hissed as it sped by.

From one singular open window at the back of the vehicle, a woman sat, lapping up the light wind, breathing deep and even. Santana Lopez was rather beautiful to behold, a wanton treasure amongst the Spanish people. Her eyes were bold and defiant, as black as her hardened soul, her hair was long and dark, falling around her shoulders in lavish curls, her body was elegant and slender and her skin was fine and Hispanic, evidence of her noble heritage. She had high cheekbones and full, kissable lips. Every freckle and blemish was perfect but every faultless inch of her betrayed the hardness that lived inside the heart that beat below. She was cold...very cold.

"Turn off that radio Blaine," Santana ordered, breaking the silence by addressing the man who sat in front at the wheel, "it's giving me quite the headache."

"My apologies Miss. There are painkillers under the dashboard if it'll help," Blaine replied, twiddling with the radio switches until the contraption fell silent.

"That won't be necessary," Santana shook her head, "all I want is to retire home. Has Tina prepared dinner?"

"Yes. A spicy chicken soup for starters, roast –"

"Get rid of it all," the Latina waved her hand carelessly, "I won't dine tonight."

"But Mistress, if you are not feeling well perhaps it is best to eat," Blaine said looking nervous, obviously trying to be careful not to overstep the mark.

"It is none of your concern whether I eat," Santana spat angrily, "and you'll do better to suggest such things."

Blaine fell silent, ashamed that he had been scolded. The Mistress settled back comfortably in her seat, observing her servant as he drove, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Santana did not care that she had upset or unnerved him. Obedience had always been a quality that she prized in her slaves and those who would not submit were easily disposable. She had many useful souls to do her bidding back at her home in _El Palacio._ As a child, Santana had been mollycoddled by her mother's servants and blessed with many hands to assist her. When her mother had passed away a few years back the Latina had decided that it was time to replace the old servants with new ones. She wanted to run a house that was filled with fear and respect and no slave would obey her if they still saw her as the child they played with and cared for.

Quinn had been her first servant, followed by Mercedes. Kurt followed closely after that and then Tina and Blaine. Artie and Rachel came as a pair though if she could give Rachel back she most certainly would. She acquired Sam on a whim when travelling America and finally, Finn had been her last purchase and would most likely, be so permanently. All of them, as a group had special tasks to perform during the week and each fitted into _El Palacio's_ world like a puzzle. Santana had grown used to them and what they offered her in their serving. She would never admit it but she needed them quite desperately.

"Um...Mistress," Blaine sounded hesitant, "there is somebody in the middle of the road."

Santana sighed, "then drive around them."

"I...I can't," Blaine said, "she's...she's unconscious."

"_What_?" Santana wasn't all that sure she had heard him correctly.

"She's lying in the middle of the road," Blaine told her.

Sticking her head out the window, Santana frowned. True to his word, there the woman lay, facing away from them, a mere mangled mess in their path.

"Stop the car," the Latina demanded and seconds later, the vehicle skidded to a halt. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Santana opened the door and stepped outside, her fine black heels scraping against the sand-like surface as she took hesitant steps towards the figure that lay before her on the ground.

"Be careful Miss Santana," Blaine warned. He was right behind her, his own movements just as timid and reserved.

A million thoughts were running through Santana's head. Who was this woman? What in the world was she doing so far out from the city? Was she dangerous? Were there others? It didn't make sense at all. Reaching the figure, Santana knelt down and looked the woman over, blinking in confusion. She was caked from head to toe in dirt, her blonde hair dishevelled and her face layered in small nicks and scratches. Her breathing was laboured and her body trembled. By the looks of her sickly complexion and bony figure, the youngster had been starved for days, maybe weeks. Santana had never seen something so vulnerable, even in such an unconscious state.

"What's the matter with her?" Blaine whispered, distressed.

"From what I can see," Santana spied the alignment of bruises that graced her neck, "she's been attacked," reaching down, she retrieved a fine gold chain that disappeared down the dip of the woman's torn shirt, revealing a pretty gold locket that spun in the light, "or worse. Call the house, tell Quinn to prepare one of the spare rooms. Contact Doctor Schuester. I'll be requiring immediate assistance."

Blaine didn't move, too stunned to obey.

"Now!" Santana hissed and the sound of footsteps retreating told her that he'd finally come to his senses. A glimmer of something caught the Latina's eyes, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. An engraving was set into the back of the locket, deep and clear and beautifully scripted. It was but one word, one name even, that offered a little understanding of the woman who lay before her. _Brittany. _

...GLEE.

The Library was Santana's favourite room in _El Palacio_ for it was quiet and humble, a place of true reflection. Sitting in her usual chair by the warm crackling fire, Santana waited, feeling slightly impatient. She had returned home with Blaine and the girl to her servants instantly swarming around her, asking what they could do and gasping at the sight of the limp body that lay uncomfortably in Blaine's arms. Santana had quickly lost her temper, screaming to be left alone and allowing only Quinn to accompany them to the spare bedroom. Now, Doctor Schuester was doing his best to look over the girl and all Santana could do was wait for a report, anxious and curious.

Reaching across to an antique table that sat beside her, the brunette retrieved a silver gilded case, feeling uneasy as she lifted it open and took out a small, thin brown cigar. She pulled from her pocket a matching silver lighter and lit the cigarette, bringing it to her lips and inhaling with an insatiable hunger. Her body immediately relaxed as the heat of the fumes filled her lungs. With a satisfied sigh, she leant on the arm of her chair and exhaled, allowing the smoky billows to dance around her precious library.

"Their bad for you Miss Lopez," a calm, manly voice said, startling Santana out of her almost peaceful reverie. Looking up, she found Will Schuester standing in the open doorway, smirking warmly as he often did, "I keep telling you but will you listen?"

"Probably not," Santana chuckled taking another casual drag. She stood and approached the older man, shaking his hand out of respect. Will was an infamous physician and though he was annoying in character, he knew what he was talking about and had proven to be a great ear of advice whenever Santana needed it, "how is my new house guest?"

"She looks like she's been run over by my Uncle Benny's monster truck but other than that, she's healthy."

"No diseases?"

"Nope."

"Nothing broken."

"Nada."

"Hmm, so what's wrong with her?" Santana queried.

"She has a few bruises here and there and she's undernourished," Will explained, shrugging his shoulders, "on further examination I found the number _2133 _printedon her wrist which could indicate only one possible thing."

"She's been catalogued for a slave auction," Santana murmured, voicing her thoughts as she remembered how she'd purchased the likes of Rachel and Kurt in _Mérida. _

"Bingo!" Will laughed.

"Do you think she was actually sold?" Santana asked.

"I would wager my good looks that she escaped before that happened. They most likely chased her through the city but gave up when she wandered this way," Will said, looking very pleased with himself.

"Anything else?"

"Actually, yes. Little miss blonde regained consciousness during my examination. When I asked her a few basic questions she could answer only two things. Her name and her age. It would appear she is suffering amnesia, probably a result of hitting her head when falling. Whether it will be a short term or long term arrangement is beyond my understanding," the doctor said.

"Shit!" Santana hissed. She turned and began to pace back and forth, taking another two hasty drags from her cigar. This was not good.

"What will you do with her?" Will asked.

"I'm not sure," Santana answered.

"I'd like to suggest something and you have no choice but to listen," Will told her firmly, "this girl, this... Brittany or whatever the hell her name is will be in danger if she leaves here. The slave men will be out looking and if they find her, they will most likely kill her. My advice is to keep her here. Keep her as a servant; employ her into your workplace. She will be a good addition to your organisation and from what I could see, she has working hands. If you let her go, she will die."

Santana laughed, "you can't be sure of that."

"I'm as sure as I am great!" Will said, holding his arms out as though presenting himself, "she has been taken from her own country and brought here. She was bound to work as slave anyway."

"And what do you expect me to say to her? Oh I'm sorry you can't leave. I'm kidnapping you. I'll be no better than the men who took her in the first place," Santana said, shaking her head resolutely.

"We're talking about someone's life here Santana," Will retorted in desperation, "doesn't that at least mean _anything_to you?"

Santana wandered over to the fireplace, feeling the heat of the flickering flames burn into her skin like a million hot kisses.

"There is little in this world Schuester that means anything to me anymore," she said darkly.

"Yes and we've discussed this," Will took a few steps forward, "if you would just allow me to set up a few counselling appointments –"

"_And I have told you time and time again that I am not grieving_," Santana barked.

"Of course you are Santana. You've been grieving the loss of your mother for years now and it's not okay. You need –"

"Help?" Santana laughed sarcastically. She threw her half-smoked cigar into the fireplace and turned to survey Will with dim, empty eyes, "I don't need help. What I need is for you to mind your own business and do your job. That is all I expect from you Schue."

Will cast his gaze to the ground, "I see," he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Fishing inside his pocket, he handed Santana a receipt for his services, "I've prescribed the patient with painkillers and something to help her sleep. She should be back to herself in no time at all but the best thing for her at the moment is bed rest."

"Thank you," the Latina nodded.

Will stepped back, bowing graciously, "I'll see myself out. About the girl and her staying here, consider it at least."

Santana sighed and sank back into her chair again, cupping her cheeks with trembling hands. She'd been home for no more than two hours and already her life had been spun around. No wonder she preferred to stay away.

...GLEE.

Brittany felt uneasy indeed as she surveyed the simple yet sophisticated room in which she resided. She was a little confused as to where she was and why she was here in the first place but exhaustion kept her rooted in the small double bed and she found that even if she wanted to move, she couldn't.

It had been a strange day all in all with very little to consider and at the same time, too much to take in and think of. The first thing that struck Brittany as odd was her utter lack of remembering _anything_. No matter how she tried, no matter how she strained to the furthest reaches of the back of her mind, she could recall nothing of her life up to this moment and what she had spent the last twenty four years doing.

Second and perhaps the most serious was the way Brittany ached whenever she moved. What had happened to make her this way? Her entire body felt as though it were about to break. Was she dying? She wasn't sure how she looked underneath the nightdress she had woken in but her exposed arms were covered in bruises and even simple things such as breathing made her feel wrong.

The only thing that remotely came to mind in this situation was her name. Brittany. _I am Brittany,_ she thought sadly, _that's all I am._ It wasn't the least bit comforting.

...GLEE.

The Mistress of _El Palacio_ paused as she stepped into the quiet and quaint spare room that contained her new sleeping house guest. It had been a busy couple of hours with servants wandering in and out, attending to the girl as she rested and so Santana had promptly stayed away until everything had once again calmed down.

Now in the silence, Santana wished for company. She hoped that Quinn or Kurt would come into the room and address her so she wasn't so alone with her thoughts, but she knew it would not happen.

Stepping around to the opposite side of the room, the Latina took a seat next to the bed. What met her gaze next was totally unexpected but welcomed nonetheless. A pair of wide sea blue eyes stared back at her, curious, deep and childlike. Santana had never seen anything more beautiful or arresting. The eyes belonged to a woman that was nimble and elegant looking with long golden locks of hair and slender in build. How had she missed these perfections before? Had she not been looking?

Leaping to her feet and feeling alarmed by these new tightened feelings in her chest, Santana moved back around the room again. She was aware of the girl watching her, most likely confused by what she was doing but she just couldn't stop herself.

As swiftly as she arrived Santana left. Her legs carried her down the hallways, her heels clinking erratically. No matter how she ran, she could not escape those open blue eyes.

She almost knocked Finn over in her haste to get back to the Library. He called out to her as she ran but she didn't answer him. She kept going until finally, she reached her destination, slamming the door behind her and sinking to the ground in shock. The brunette heaved up great mouthfuls of air, staring at the floor, gasping, burning with some unknown desire. _Oh Lord_...she was beautiful. Oh God.

When Schuester had first suggested her keeping Brittany, Santana had believed it to be quite ridiculous. Now, after seeing the girl...how could she possibly not? She needed her. It was an innate primal thing..._instant_... but Santana couldn't ignore it. She would have her, even if she were just a pretty thing to observe as she worked.

There would definitely be complications to get around. How to convince the girl to stay for instance? Maybe she could come up with some sort of trickery...create a lie that would have Brittany believe she had always worked at _El Palacio._ Yes. Maybe. Santana had a few days to iron out the kinks. She would get her story straight and with the girl's loss of memory, it would be easy to fabricate lies.

A terrible confusion came over Santana as she plotted. Where had this come from? She had seen Brittany for only a few seconds and yet she was already drunk on those never-ending ultramarine eyes. Could such an attraction be so immediate? Could such a thing inspire her to do these evil things? To keep someone against her will? To lie about it?

The girl's pretty face swarmed up into Santana's vision again and she forgot her inner turmoil. _She's mine, _the Latina thought, her body tingling in excitement, _mine! _

**I feel a lot better about this chapter guys and I'm glad I decided to re-write it. Please review and let me know what you think. **

**For all you '**_**I See You**_**' readers out there, yes I'll be updating soon. I've been suffering a little writers-block and decided that writing this chapter might help me work through it. Fingers crossed. Thanks again. **


	2. You Belong To Me

**Thank you for the positive reviews of the last chapter everyone. I appreciate them so much and I hope you continue to read this story as I work to develop it. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**Chapter 1 – You Belong To Me**

Work started at 7:15am in _El Palacio_ every morning so the servants were surprised to be woken from their beds and called to a meeting at 6:00am. Pacing back and forth in the ballroom, the group waited patiently for their Mistress, wondering why they had been beckoned, considering all things and feeling terribly nervous.

Rachel looked as though she were about to jump out of the nearest window. She walked in fast circles, heaving and avoiding everyone's gaze. Artie fidgeted in his wheelchair and sat as far away from the entrance of the room as he possible could. He kept locking eyes with Quinn as though searching for some sort of reassurance from her. Of course, it wasn't just Rachel and Artie who were feeling the pressure. Everyone was scared. Everyone was confused.

The ballroom doors suddenly swung open with an almighty crash, making the group jump as they all turned to see who had entered. Upon the realisation that their Mistress had finally joined them, they fell to their knees, bowing respectfully and keeping their faces to the ground as they waited for some sort of command.

Santana strutted about the room in a chilling silence. The Mistress did not look the least bit happy and her footsteps were hard as she wandered from servant to servant, surveying them all with an air of loathing.

"Why are you still in your nightwear?" She demanded.

Some of the servants winced nervously, realising their mistake. They were usually still in bed at 6:00am and so when they had received word that the Mistress required them they had simply left their rooms to do her bidding. Only Finn and Sam, the guards, were suitably dressed.

"Will anyone be brave enough to answer me?" Santana asked.

"Our orders were to come to the ballroom Mistress," Quinn pulled herself to her feet, looking timid. She made sure to keep her head lower that Santana's, reverential in her behaviour, "we were not informed to dress appropriately."

Santana smirked and nodded, impressed. Quinn had always been the strong one amongst her servants, "hmm," she turned away from the blonde to address the others, "up off the floor before I gladly kick one of you." She waved her hand dismissively at Quinn and like her companions, she straightened up and waited.

"I am sure you're all curious as to why I have brought you here," her voice echoed throughout the room as she walked with her hands linked firmly behind her back, "so I wish to make it known now that there is no ill feeling between us. I am not angry with any of you, nor am I here to dole out punishments." Rachel seemed to deflate in relief. "My night has been plagued with thoughts of our new guest. Doctor Schuester relayed to me information of the upmost importance yesterday evening which has determined the fate of the girl who rests under our care."

Mercedes shifted from side to side apprehensively, "is she well Miss?"

"She will make a full recovery," Santana shrugged, "but I am afraid she will never leave _El Palacio_."

The room erupted with gasps and suddenly everyone was muttering and acknowledging this news with a shock and awe that was quite amusing to behold. Santana slammed her hand down on the nearest thing within her reach – a table, and silence came upon them again.

"Our guest...Brittany," she exclaimed, "was intended for a slave auction and by some miracle or perhaps quick thinking, managed to escape. Schuester warned me of the dangers that she is bound to if she leaves this manor. The slave drivers will be searching for her and if she happens to cross their path she will be killed or worse, given up to the men for amusement."

Rachel whimpered unhappily, "oh Mistress, we _can't_ allow that to happen. We all know from personal experience how terrible the slave world is."

"Mind your tongue Rachel and remember who you are talking to," Santana warned the young dramatic woman.

"Yes Miss," Rachel nodded her head submissively, "I only meant that –"

"There is a way around this problem and you'll all do well to heed my words," Santana said abruptly, "Brittany is to stay here under the rules of this house as a servant. The Doctor informed me that due to a head injury she is suffering extreme amnesia and knows nothing of her previous life. It is upon this fortune that we'll secure a story. We shall make it known to the girl that she has worked here for the past four years. You must all come together to secure a realistic story and must act as though you are her good and old friends with whom she shares memories with. Anyone who fails to do so will be punished!"

"Mistress," Quinn murmured, "why not tell her the truth? That she must stay or likely die?"

"If she knows of her freedom she will take a chance and leave. I refuse to have her blood on my hands," Santana answered.

"But she must have family out there looking for her?" Finn queried. The other servants recoiled from this statement. Even though they had spent years under Mistress Santana's reign they still thought of their lost families and how they yearned for them. It hurt more that their mother's and father's, sisters and brothers all probably believed them missing. Dead even.

"I won't waste my time looking for a family that might not exist," Santana shook her head, "no. She will stay here with us. Now, this is what I have come up with. We shall tell our guest, as I said, that she has worked here for four years. She grew depressed and tried to leave and upon her journey down the roadway slipped and hit her head, hence the loss of memory."

"What of other things? The rules we've been set...the way we work? Who will explain that?" Tina asked.

"I will," Santana answered, "she will be brought to me this morning. I will give her no cause to disbelieve me."

Quinn glanced furtively at Rachel, biting her lip anxiously. It was clear, from the shared expression on everyone's face that this was not a good idea but arguing would only make the Mistress angry.

"It is for the best that we do this," Santana said, sensing the unease within the room, "to tell the truth would confuse and frighten the girl. These lies will help keep her safe."

"There must be another way around it," Mercedes muttered.

"There's not," Santana rounded on her, raising a hand as though to strike. Mercedes cowered, "and if anyone is _stupid _enough to tell her anything other than what I have ordered, a group punishment will be set. Am I understood?"

"Yes Mistress." They said in unison.

Santana lowered her hand, "good. Now get changed and start yours chores," she strutted out of the room, "Rachel! Wash, dress and feed our guest. Then bring her to the library," she called and then suddenly, she was gone.

Silence boomed around the servants as they stood, staring at one another. There was little to be said when they knew that most of what they would ever convey to Brittany would be lies. How could they ever live with themselves, for no one would dare disobey Santana?

...GLEE.

Rolling onto her back, Brittany sighed easily and nestled into the warmth of her pillow, feeling better after a good night's sleep of dreamless dreams. The morning sunlight danced in through the open window with the cool quick breeze, immersing the room with the subtle scent of fauna that floated from the trees that towered just outside.

Brittany felt more positive this morning, despite the fact that she still had no idea where she was or to whom she belonged. She was safe, that much was clear for the people who had cared for her yesterday had been terribly kind, popping in to check up on her, feeding her, talking and consoling her. It was sweet of them, to be so considerate and Brittany knew she would be forever grateful for their help.

Sitting up in bed, the young blonde stretched. Yes, she definitely didn't hurt as much today though her shoulders strained a little as she lifted herself, hoping to get more comfortable.

A dozen thoughts rushed up into the women's head as searched the room inquisitively, trying to somehow identify with anything, trying to remember even just a little. The face of a woman blurred up her vision, startling her and filling her chest with a pounding trepidation. The woman, beautiful though she was, had visited her last night while she'd been resting. Brittany remembered how she had only stayed for a few mere seconds before leaving in a hurry, as though desperate to get away. She had such fine, Spanish features, her face proud, her eyes burning with surprise. Why had she come at all, just to leave? It made Brittany nervous.

The sound of the door creeping open cleared Brittany's thoughts. Turning, she found a pretty young lady, no older than herself perhaps, standing in the doorway.

"Hello."

Brittany frowned.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" she approached her with a wide toothy smile and sat on the edge of the bed, "there's definitely more colour to your cheeks."

"I...I uh...who are you?" Brittany stammered nervously.

The woman chuckled though her eyes conveyed something else, something the blonde couldn't quite decipher, "I knew you wouldn't remember me, that's alright. Doctor Schuester said you wouldn't. I'm Rachel...but of course, some part of you already knows that."

"It does?"

"Of course. You and I, we're good friends, always have been," Rachel chirped. Brittany tried to remember her but she couldn't, "how's your head?"

"Better," the blonde answered, "um...where am I?"

"Home. Safe." Rachel took hold of her hand, squeezing it.

"I'm sorry," Brittany sighed pessimistically, "I don't think I understand anything right now. My head is full of clouds."

Rachel nodded, "that's fine. You'll understand soon enough. The Mistress wishes to see you. She'll explain everything. You'll feel better then."

"The Mistress?" _This doesn't feel right at all, _Brittany thought.

"The woman we work for. Our superior," Rachel replied and when Brittany blinked in confusion, she sighed, seemingly frustrated, "oh dear. I don't think I'm helping at all. Look, no more questions. It'll only make things worse. Come on, I'm supposed to clean you up and get you ready. You'll see Mistress Santana then."

Mistress. The word felt very negative. Brittany didn't like it at all.

...GLEE.

Santana glanced up from the business contract she had been looking over to find Rachel standing before her, gaze fixed to the ground passively as she waited for her Mistress to acknowledge her.

"Yes?"

"I've brought Brittany to see you," the brunette said.

"Good," Santana nodded, setting her work aside, "send her in."

Rachel bowed and left and after a few seconds of brief whispers outside the door, _she_ entered, looking terrified and bewildered. Santana's stomach clenched and she suddenly felt sick. She took in Brittany's soft, timorous face and almost groaned. She was even more beautiful than she remembered. Slim and graceful, the work dress that Brittany had been given to wear clung to her every curve, making her look soft and feminine and youthful. Her eyes were still incredibly impressive, so blue and innocent as she searched Santana's face for the hidden answers.

"Are you so disrespectful as to stare me out child?" The Latina growled, wanting to intimidate her into submission.

"I...I –" Brittany stammered.

"Sit," Santana ordered and her soul crooned its approval when the youngster did just that, "I am aware you are here for explanations. That you wish to know who you are and whether you have a family looking for you."

"Yes."

"Well I will answer your questions," Santana circled the chair in which Brittany sat, smiling triumphantly, "Who are you? I answer, you are nobody. You work here, in this home for me as a slave. I have owned you four years in all and you have spent your life doing my bidding as your Mistress."

Brittany leapt to her feet, surprise and horror etched into her face.

"Sit down child! I am not done." She bellowed and once again, the young blonde collapsed into her seat.

"You would ask if you have a family and whether they are looking for you and my answer is _no_. You have no family. You serve _me_ and only me. No one is searching for you. This is where you will spend your days."

Brittany sniffed, her face contorted as fresh tears poured down her cheeks, "no. Please."

"Now that you understand who you are and your place –"

Brittany cut her off, "I can't live here. _Please_. This doesn't feel right. I don't remember being here. I don't –" Santana gripped her arm tightly and wrenched her startled captive to feet, ignoring the strangled cry of pain and fear that escaped her lips.

"You will learn _again_ to address me with respect," she screamed into the girl's face, "I am your Mistress and you'll do better to remember it."

Brittany hiccupped between sobs, "I'm sorry Mistress."

Santana burned with pleasure at this. Much better. Releasing her grip on Brittany's arm, she said darkly, "now kneel before me." The girl slid down to the floor, whimpering, and assumed the position that was expected of her. It was a reluctant move but Santana would rectify that soon enough. Brittany would one day obey like it was second nature, "there. That wasn't so bad was it?" She crooned in a soft, mocking tone of voice.

Strolling around the girl like a hunter stalking its prey, Santana chuckled.

"You have suffered a great deal of confusion over the last few hours," she said, "and for that, I am willing to be lenient with you. Work hard to serve me and I will reward you as I reward the others."

"And what if I don't work hard?" Brittany sniffed.

"You will be punished," Santana replied.

An understanding settled over the women as they waited each other out. The only sound that escaped into the atmosphere was Brittany's gentle, confused sobs. Santana listened, ignoring the jabs in her chest as each melancholy whimper sounded throughout the room. It was heartbreaking to hear but she could easily disregard it. This creature was hers now. She would gladly push aside all her humanly consideration to keep her.

"There are many rules to living in my house child," Santana said firmly, "and because your memory loss has shaken these things from your mind I will be happy to remind you of them. You are to obey everything I demand, no matter your dislike for it. Remember that I am your Mistress. Do this and I will be pleased. You are to respect your fellow servants. They are your friends and will take care of you."

Sighing, the Latina stopped and sat down again, observing her new charge. Oh she was lovely, even with her blotchy tear-stained face.

"You are not to leave these grounds. If you require anything you must come to me and ask for it. I am fair in my giving and there will be no need to wander in search of things," Santana's body constricted in frustration as she relayed her final rule and allowance, "if you wish to take a lover amongst the servants you may do so with welcome," _no! Mine!_ "but my permission is required so certain precautions and arrangements can be made to prevent unplanned, and on my part as your Mistress, _unwanted_ pregnancies. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes Mistress," Brittany mumbled weakly.

Santana leant forward and cupped the women's cheeks, lifting her face to examine her properly. Brittany didn't struggle against her. In fact, she looked somewhat defeated as though she had already accepted her place. _Pity_, Santana thought, _the light is already fading from your eyes._

Disgusted with herself for having come up with this greedy plan in the first place, Santana growled and stood, shoving the girl aside, "now get out."

Brittany scrambled to her feet and almost flew out of the room. Santana could hear her panicked strides and taste her fear as it hung in the air like a heavy mist. There was no need to release the girl now for the lie had already been made to keep her. _Mine_, Santana thought smiling, _you belong to me._

...GLEE.

Quinn and Tina had been busy scrubbing the dining room floors when the blur of blonde and white flew by. Getting to their feet immediately, they left their work and stuck their heads out the doorway, watching and perhaps understanding as Brittany darted down another corridor and then another.

"Should we?" Tina asked.

"Oh definitely," Quinn nodded and leading the way, she and Tina followed Brittany's course down the hallway.

They found Brittany huddled up in her room, sprawled over her bed and sobbing into her pillows. She looked so helpless, a lost soul amongst the finery. Quinn was the first to move, making her way over to the blonde and enveloping her in a soft, maternal hug.

"There there. It's okay," she whispered.

"No," Brittany wailed into her shoulder, "it's not. She...she...she hates me."

The women exchanged a look of worry, "The Mistress? Of course she doesn't," Tina exclaimed. She came to sit on Brittany's other side, stroking her arm tenderly, "she's always had a touchy temper. The best way around it is to do as you're told."

Brittany closed her eyes tight, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks.

"She's horrid. It's like ice runs through her veins or something," the blonde whimpered.

"Mistress Santana has a lot on her mind right now so we must all be patient with her mood swings," Quinn said as she rubbed small circles on Brittany's back, "you'll find her to be a very fair employer when you settle into your work here."

"You mean...she's really nice?" Brittany pulled back to look at them, her face brimming with hope.

"Um...not nice so much but reasonable. If you show her respect she'll do the same to you," Tina told her.

But the way she spoke to me," Brittany muttered, "it was like I was _nothing_."

"To Miss Santana, you are nothing. Our only purpose here is to serve and obey. That's all."

"But that's so mean," Brittany huffed.

Quinn and Tina turned to look at one another, smiling in a sad sort of way that said _she'll learn soon enough. _

"Everything will get better sweetie, we promise. You have us. We'll take care of you," Tina whispered.

Brittany sighed, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout that made her look like a scolded child, "I wanna go home."

"You are home," Quinn said. It felt terrible to lie to the poor thing, especially when she was still so full of desperate optimism.

"But it doesn't feel like home," Brittany shook her head, "even if I can't remember, shouldn't I at least _feel_ connected to this place?"

"You will when you find your feet again," Quinn reassured her.

They watched as Brittany snuggled down into her bed, yawning tiredly as the revelations of the day finally came crashing down on her.

"Perhaps you should get some sleep. Doctor Schuester said you needed bed rest," Tina pulled the sheets over her and fixed the pillows, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

"Why can't I remember anything?" Brittany asked, "what happened to make me forget?"

Tina sighed, playing anxiously with her apron, "you left El Palacio without informing the Mistress. You didn't wanna be here anymore. You hit your head when you were making your way to the city. If the Mistress hadn't realised you were messing and sent Sam and Finn out to search who knows what might have happened."

"So she saved me?" Brittany queried.

"Yeah," Quinn nodded, "she cared enough to bring you back...and keep you here for good." She added under her breath.

"What was that?" Brittany sniffed.

"Uh...nothing. Look get some sleep. You certainly need it now," Quinn leant down to press a kiss to her forehead, "we'll leave you in peace."

"Thank you," the young blonde sighed, watching as her new friends got to their feet and wandered to the other side of the room.

"Sweet dreams," Quinn said and taking her companions arms, she led the way back down the hallways.

"The poor thing," Tina said, breaking the silence, shaking her head, "it's all been a little much for her to take in."

"She suspects something wrong, that's for sure."

"Should we tell Miss Santana?" Tina asked.

"No," Quinn answered, "bringing it up might very well increase this sudden temper of hers."

"I don't understand why she is so angry. Do you think something happened in Paris? Maybe one of her business deals fell through." Tina suggested.

"It's possible." Quinn didn't truly believe Miss Santana was angry about something that happened on her week away. No. It was definitely linked back to Brittany and her coming here.

"I know the Mistress has doled out punishments before," Tina said, cutting through Quinn's thought process, "but only when they were deserved. I honestly believe she was going to hit Mercedes earlier this morning." It _was_ unusual. Santana was harsh with her words, yes but she rarely laid a finger on a servant unless it was completely necessary.

"Mercedes tried to change her mind," the blonde shrugged, "and you know she doesn't like to be corrected or questioned."

"Well all things considered, maybe we had better be careful with what we say from now on."

"Hmm, maybe your right," Quinn nodded and on that note, they parted to finish their chores.

**So that's another chapter done. I know there wasn't a lot of Brittana to take in but I promise as the chapters go on there will be more. So, what do you think of Santana? Review.**

**I'm sort of getting through _'I See You_' slowly so expect an update in a day or two. Thanks. **


	3. Alone

**Hey guys. Thank you once again for reviewing this story. I'm pleased as punch that you're all so interested in reading. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!**

**Disclaimer: Doesn't every Brittana fan wish they owned Glee? Imagine it.**

**Chapter 2 – Alone**

It was difficult to fit into life at _El Palacio_ though Brittany tried desperately to do just that. A few days had passed and she had spent much of her time resting and learning from the others what came with being a servant to the most powerful woman in _Mérida. _

Brittany found that she was perhaps not as capable with housework as she would like to be. Within the first three hours of her official work, the poor blonde had slipped on the wet floors, broken a window in the kitchen and flooded a second ground bathroom. This in itself confused Brittany for she had hoped that cleaning and doing her Mistress's bidding would be habitual thanks to her four years of serving in the grand manor house. Perhaps it was unease of feeling so new. Perhaps when she settled down she would improve.

The other servants proved to be good and loyal friends. They cared for Brittany dearly which in her time of need, was deeply appreciated.

Quinn and Rachel were particularly keen on taking her under their wing. Quinn was a figure of great authority in the house. She was respected and liked by everyone and Brittany observed how the others came to her for advice and approval in their day to day activities. The youngster wished that one day she could be just as appreciated as Quinn and looked to her as a role model on how to conduct herself.

Rachel was a simple source of entertainment for Brittany. She joined the blonde in the evenings as she rested, and amused her with witty stories and songs that would make her forget her pain of living in this strange new world. It wasn't just Rachel and Quinn who offered comfort to the newcomer however. The others were just as sweet and caring and Brittany had grown to admire them all. They were very good people.

Of course, amongst the splendour of _El Palacio_ was one thing...or _monster_ ...that Brittany could not take to. The Mistress was absolutely terrifying, a foreboding presence wherever she dared to wander. Brittany spent much of her days trying to avoid the woman that owned her soul though it was not always feasibly possible. All she knew was her apprehension of Miss Santana had spanned from their first encounter and she would most likely spend the rest of her days obeying, in fear of being punished by the woman who was capable, she believed, of anything.

...GLEE.

Santana pulled herself up and out of bed that fine Saturday morning and sighed with a deep and breathy satisfaction. Stepping into her slippers, she wandered across her bedroom floor and opened the door, letting the cool air of the hallways sweep over her aching body. She called for a servant, her voice sharp and demanding before she strolled over to her vanity mirror and sat, gazing at her reflection curiously.

Quinn and Kurt arrived a few minutes later. Kurt, with a bow, opened her walk-in closet and began to retrieve outfits, presenting them with a smile. She waved a few away offhandedly, hardly caring to really look before nodding at a simple black suit with a matching jewelled necklace. Quinn was already busy in the bathroom, running a hot bath for her Mistress and filling it with soapy liquids and bubbly concoctions. Santana breathed in the clean scent of the perfumes and stood to brush past Kurt and step inside.

"Open the window Quinn," she said while she unbuttoned her pyjama shirt, "and when you're done I'll have a camomile tea."

"Yes Miss," the blonde nodded.

"How is Brittany this morning? I'm sure she's settled in well enough." The young woman had plagued her thoughts for the last couple of days and though Santana had done her best to try and give the girl space, it was useless. She was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"She's a little restless but of course, that's to be expected," Quinn threw open the window, immersing the room with fresh air before she stepped up behind Santana and helped her to undress, "we're all keeping an eye on her, trying to support her as best as we can."

"That's all I ask," Santana said, stepping out of her pyjama pants, "and Kurt? I trust that no one has tried to tell her anything other than what I have ordered?" He was known for his gossiping and she would silence him if needs be.

Kurt stuck his head around the doorway, smiling pleasantly as he watched his fellow servant strip the Mistress bare. Santana hardly cared that a man was present in this private matter. There was no point in feeling awkward. Kurt's interest in women spanned only to friendship and it was Blaine who held his heart and shared his bed.

"Brittany knows nothing but what you've said Mistress," he bowed, "and I swear you'll never hear the truth slip from my lips."

"Good," Santana nodded, pleased, "because as far as the girl is concerned, _this_," she gestured to the room as a whole, "is the truth."

Shooing Quinn away with her hand, the Latina made her way over to the bathtub, lifted her leg and stepped inside; bringing her other leg over before sinking beneath the hot surface with a hiss of ecstasy.

"When I'm finished here you will send for her." It was an order. Blunt. Hard.

"For Brittany?" Kurt asked, frowning.

"No for the sugar plum fairy," the Latina spat, sarcastically, "of course for Brittany!"

"Shall I tell her to come here?" The young man asked.

"No. I'll be in the library," Santana closed her eyes against the gentle strokes of Quinn washing her back. She lapped the bubbles up and around her, scrubbing her arms and attending to herself, "send her with my breakfast."

"Yes Miss." Kurt answered.

"You may leave now." She waved him off with her hand and watched, through the reflection of the bathroom mirror as he exited the room, leaving her alone with her most trusted servant, "if I were to ask you something Quinn, would you answer me honestly?"

Quinn paused in her work and Santana felt her hand tense against her back.

"It's a reasonable question."

"Um...of course," came the reply, "ask away."

"What I'm doing with Brittany, keeping her I mean...is it really so bad?" Quinn was still hesitating and she wanted to ease that, "answer without concern. I'll take whatever you say."

"I don't entirely agree with it Mistress," the blonde replied and it seemed as though speaking had broken her apprehension for she began to move again, dipping the sponge into the water before scrubbing Santana's back vigorously, "but it's none of my business. I'm here to obey, not to question."

The Latina chuckled, "but if you were given the choice, you would let her go?"

"I think so."

"Hmm." Somewhere in the back of the Latina's mind, a voice cried out, telling her that she was still so very wrong for taking Brittany's freedom away from her. The past few nights of rest had been uncomfortable indeed. She'd tossed and turned, her thoughts overtaken with the blonde and how scared she had been the day she had claimed her as her own. There had been many times during these awkward couple of days in which Santana had almost stopped what she was doing to collect the girl and grant her the freedom she so desired. Then she would recall those _beautiful_ eyes, wide and beseeching and she would reason with herself. No. Brittany belonged to her now. She wouldn't ever let her go.

"What I'm doing might not be fair," Santana said determinedly, "but it'll keep Brittany safe. I know you'll at least understand that." It was so easy to talk to Quinn.

"Absolutely. She'll grow used to _El Palacio_ soon enough," her servant agreed, nodding.

"And if she knew of my intentions...of my real intentions to keep her here, she'd be grateful. She's alive while she's here," Santana said. She knew she was trying to reason her actions but in truth, it was all a lie. Brittany was here for one thing and one thing only. To serve her Mistress.

Frowning in confusion, Santana shook her head. Why did Brittany have to be so damn good-looking? It made the Latina angry that something so insignificant could have such a significant effect on her. Maybe her hunger would fade away with time. Hopefully.

...GLEE.

Brittany smiled for the first time that morning as Mercedes set a bowl of steaming hot porridge down in front of her. She was sitting in the servant's quarters, listening to the others as they talked amongst each other enthusiastically. She didn't understand how they could be so happy with this life for none of them looked remotely discontented. Finn and Rachel were feeding each piece of fruit and crooning to one another gently. Tina was stirring her coffee in a casual manner, staring out the open window, clearly day dreaming. Mercedes was now talking to Artie, though what they were discussing, Brittany didn't know. All she could take in was how wrong this all was. She just didn't understand their complacency. They were someone's property. Nothing at all. Nonexistent. How could this be normal to them?

Picking up her spoon, Brittany scooped up a great gloop of porridge and brought it to her lips. She didn't realise how hungry she was until the sweetness slipped down her throat. Her unease subsided with each mouthful and she found that she could think clearer when her stomach was full and sated.

"Are you listening Brittany?" A voice said, breaking through her peaceful reverie.

"Huh?" Looking up, she found Kurt standing over her, eyeing her curiously, "oh sorry. I didn't hear you."

"I said the Mistress is expecting you. Will you take her breakfast to the library?"

Brittany's body recoiled at the mere mention of Santana, "do I have to? Can't you take it?"

"Nope," Kurt shook his head, "she specifically asked for you."

The very idea of seeing her Mistress again sent Brittany into a tsunami of panic. Her chest felt tight and her heart pounded in a way that made her feel as though it could break the delicate ribcage that encased it protectively. Wiping her clammy palms against her work dress, the terrified blonde nodded timidly, "okay."

"Great," Kurt chirped, unaware of the way she trembled, "I'll just fix the breakfast then. You do the rest."

...GLEE.

Tapping nervously on the library door, Brittany waited for an answer. The tray was incredibly heavy in her hands for Kurt had prepared a breakfast fit for a queen with enough food to feed an army if needs be. Sighing and shifting from side to side, Brittany balanced the tray with one hand and tried again, knocking a little louder, hoping her Mistress would hear this time. Like before, there was no reply and so, deciding it was best, she set her hand on the knob and pushed the door open.

The library was empty... and really quite remarkable. Stepping inside, Brittany set the tray down on the nearest surface within reach before gazing around the open room eagerly. The walls were lined with book upon book, great shelves of dusty novels that just yearned to be read and devoured. Antique chairs were set about here and there, accompanied by little oak tables or fluffy footstools. Towards the back of the room was a long, ancient table that held the most fascinating of objects, fine crystal figurines, an expensive gold inkpot and feathered pen, striking decanters filled with fine alcoholic beverages and in the centre, an Egyptian styled vase bursting with exotic red flowers. The walls were lined with great portraits – landscapes mostly, and as Brittany examined each one, she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with their vibrant colours and heart-warming truths.

Reaching the last one, she paused and frowned, leaning forward a little to better take it in. The painting was of a woman, sitting in a great throne-like chair, dressed extravagantly in a long white and gold dress. Her Hispanic face was hard but beautiful with long sweeping dark hair and edgy green eyes. She didn't smile. It was like she didn't know how. Beside her, on the ground was a child dressed in a plaid skirt and white blouse. She had a sweet angelic face, dark like the woman's and though their hair was the same, the eyes were different. A rich chocolate brown, they were strong, searching and loving. Those eyes were filled with innocence and hope and with a wide, bright smile to accompany them Brittany believed her to be attentively beautiful.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Jumping back in alarm, the blonde collided with a table and crashed to her feet, sending a transparent glass ashtray to the floor where it shattered into a million little pieces.

Looking up at her Mistress, Brittany whimpered, "please...don't punish me." She clawed at the broken pieces of glass on the floor, her fingers finding and reaching until a single shard penetrated her palm.

"Stop it," she heard the Mistress's voice, sharp and commanding, "you're going to do yourself more damage than good."

Brittany obeyed instantly, dropping her hands into her lap and watching as a thick line of blood trickled down her middle finger and onto her immaculate apron.

Santana sighed, sounding deeply annoyed. She strolled around Brittany, her footsteps disappearing over to the other side of the room. The blonde heard something like a draw opening and a moment later, the Mistress returned, this time kneeling to look at her more intently.

"Leave the glass," she said, "come with me, out of the way."

Brittany pulled herself up and followed Santana to the fireplace where a comfy looking chair resided. She watched as the Latina sat, crossing her legs and leaning back, clutching a white cloth in her hand.

"Sit," Santana told her, gesturing to the place at her feet, "and give me your hand."

"I...I...its fine...I –"

"I said sit!" Santana ordered and Brittany fell silent and dropped to her knees. Shaking, feeling sick to the stomach, she lifted her bloody hand up and set it on her Mistress's knee. Although she hadn't met her gaze, she was aware of the woman's eyes. They were on her, drinking her in, intent and ebbed with something else, something she didn't understand.

"I brought you your breakfast," Brittany mumbled.

"What?"

"You asked why I was here," she said, "I...I brought your breakfast. Kurt said I had to."

Santana made a noise of understanding, "oh. Yes." Reaching out, she took the blonde's hand and using the cloth, dabbed at it gently, soaking up the blood.

Brittany almost didn't recognise _this_ woman. She still had that unbreakable disguise about her, the fixed frown and rigid disposition but the way in which she tended to the blonde, her care simple and driven, was new. It felt good, to be looked after.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Brittany muttered, "about the –"

"It doesn't matter," Santana replied with a shrug, "an ashtray's an ashtray. I have many."

Brittany's fear bubbled to the surface instantaneously, "you won't punish me will you?" She sniffed.

The Mistress paused, the pressure upon Brittany's hand increasing, "it was an accident child," she sounded surprised, "there's no need for discipline."

Brittany whimpered, relieved.

"But stop that crying," Santana demanded, "there's no need for it."

Brittany nodded, submissive, "yes Mistress."

The cloth had certainly fulfilled its function. Only a little blood seeped from Brittany's hand and on close inspection, it was clear that the wound was not deep enough to need stitches. Finally setting the bloody fabric aside, the Latina sighed and let her other hand dance across Brittany's palm. Her touch was soft...like hurting the servant was the last thing she wanted.

"Why don't you look at me?"

Brittany frowned, not realising that in all the time she had been kneeling, she hadn't glanced up at her Mistress once.

Santana bristled angrily, "look at me child!"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Brittany slowly lifted her face, her vivid eyes flickering up until they met the darkening gloom of Santana's. Her stomach flipped and her shoulders shuddered. The blood that pulsated around her body quickened and her head felt as though it would explode. Under the sultry watch of her Mistress, Brittany felt naked. It was almost as if Santana was stripping her down, undressing her and making her vulnerable. Brittany wasn't sure she liked it all that much. If she was given the choice she would escape the room now and save herself the embarrassment of coming undone beneath her Mistress's control.

"Do you like books Brittany?" Santana asked suddenly, destroying the stillness.

"Um...I guess Miss," the blonde answered.

"Well I do too," Santana stood and stepped around her, clasping her hands firmly behind her back, "when I was a little girl I'd sit in here for hours reading. I felt so safe...like nothing could touch me," her voice had turned dreamlike, "the best place in the world."

Brittany stood and wandered over to stand beside her Mistress. Santana reached across to one of the bookshelves and retrieved a novel. Flipping it open, she caressed the printed dusty pages with a look of pure adoration.

"Books are..." she trailed off.

Brittany leant forward curiously, "books are what?"

Santana seemed to come to her senses. Shaking her head, she turned to look at Brittany, anger set into her very being, "why are you addressing me in such a manner?" she hissed, "I didn't tell you to speak."

Brittany flushed pink, "I'm sorry."

"Quiet," Santana growled. She shoved the book back in its place on the shelf and rounded on Brittany, towering over her. The blonde immediately collapsed to the ground, assuming the position that always seemed to please her Mistress. Lowering her gaze, she waited anxiously for an order, hoping that she had somehow rectified Santana's sudden anger.

When a few minutes of silence passed, Brittany had no choice but to speak, "Miss Santana,"she whispered, "what do...what do you want me to do?"

She heard the powerful woman sigh but for once it wasn't something of frustration but defeat, "clean up this mess." She said half-heartedly, gesturing to the glass sprinkled around them.

Brittany nodded and before she could offer some sort of reply, the Mistress was stepping by her and strutting out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. Amongst the cluttered bookshelves and splendid antiques, Brittany was alone again. She didn't know whether she liked it.

...GLEE.

Shoving Artie aside and storming into the pool room, Santana found Blaine buffing the tiled floor with a set deliberation, his brow drenched in sweat as he worked. Approaching him, she kicked a spare towel into the air and watched as it landed in the hot bubbling Jacuzzi with a splash.

She didn't understand it but there was a tightening just below her stomach and a heat searing between the subtle core of her legs. She knew it was Brittany's doing. The child had a potent effect on her, a hold that was growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. She had to get away. She had to escape.

"Prepare the car," the Latina muttered through clenched teeth, "the sooner I'm away from this _fucking_ dump the better."

Blaine looked up, blinking in confusion, "Mistress...is everything alright?" He could see something was bothering her.

"It will be," she nodded thinking of Brittany and how she had to be free of her for a while. Santana _needed_ to be alone again. She didn't know whether she liked the idea but she needed it.

**Done. So as promised, Santana was a little mellower in this chapter but I can assure you, the vicious Mistress will be returning with a vengeance. She's nowhere **_**near**_** being soft. So tell me what you thought of the chapter? Review please. **


	4. The Mice Will Play

**Hey guys. So before we get on with this chapter, I wanna make something very clear. Although this story has the whole 'Mistress and Servant' thing going, just like 'Serving Mistress Santana' it is, and will never be that particular story. There are many differences between the stories and I will work my butt off to leave no likeness between them. There are a few 'Mistress and Servant' plotlines out there and just because one person has used the storyline doesn't mean someone else can't. My respect for lizzylizbian is great and I would never be so mean as to steal anything from her. I will continue to encourage people to read her story as it really is inspirational. I'm not about to plagiarise anyone's work and I'm proud to say I have my own imagination. Stick around and you'll see that. Thank you. My rant is over. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!**

**Disclaimer: Glee and all its brilliance belongs to someone else. Nothing is mine.**

**Chapter 3 – The Mice Will Play **

Brittany breathed a heavy hearted sigh as she scraped the final few shards of glass into the kitchen bin. Her body was still twitching anxiously from her encounter with Santana earlier and her head pounded under the strain of the hard work she had performed all morning to secure herself a punishment-free life.

Everything still felt so wrong, even though the Mistress and the other servants had offered Brittany a reliable story that she had in fact, lived at _El Palacio_ for the past four years. She couldn't help it but the blonde still felt as though she didn't belong, as though all of this was a lie and she was really somebody else, living a made up life.

Maybe her accident had just messed with her head a little. Lots of people were confused and unhappy after traumatic experiences, right? Sure, she could remember nothing of life before now but why would the others lie? What would they gain from such things? No. She was simply imagining her unease. Shaking her head, and wiping her hands on her apron, Brittany felt her spirit sink. She wanted to believe _so bad_ that this was real and she were truly home but at the same time there was a spark of hope inside her heart that begged it not to be so.

The sound of excited cries and screams swayed Brittany's tormented thoughts. Tiptoeing to the kitchen door, she peeked outside into the grand hall to find Kurt and Mercedes jumping around like idiots. They were so dizzy with enthusiasm that they didn't notice the poor blonde watching them.

"How long do you think she'll be gone for this time?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know," Mercedes giggled, "with luck, a few weeks."

"A few months!"

"A few years!"

They burst into raucous laughter, collapsing into one another and sharing in their joy. Brittany could only watch on in confusion. Who was going away?

"I say we go down to the cellar tonight and sneak a little wine," Kurt whispered, "we _need_ to celebrate in style."

Mercedes shook her head disapprovingly, "we almost got caught last time."

"Yeah but this time we're completely safe. The Mistress has already left. Whose gonna stop us?"

Brittany frowned, clutching onto the door handle. Mistress Santana was gone? Since when? She'd only seen her this morning.

"Rachel will have something to say," Mercedes replied, looking nervous, "and Quinn will –"

"It'll be fine. They'll be fine," Kurt said, "besides, we've got no one to catch us. Come on Mercedes...celebrate with me! The Mistress is gone!"

The busty African-American servant giggled infectiously, "okay but we have to convince the others too."

"No problem. Artie hates Santana anyway; he'll do anything for a break...Tina too," Kurt said encouragingly.

"What about Quinn?" Brittany understood Mercedes anxiety. Quinn was so strong-minded and her loyalties lay with the Mistress and how best she could serve her. Would she rat the group out if they let their hair down a little?

"We'll get around Quinn," Kurt's voice was tinged with excitement, "come on. Let's go to the cellar now."

Mercedes tugged on his arm, drawing him back to her, "maybe we should wait an hour or two...at least until Mistress Santana is a good few miles away."

Kurt chuckled, "nah, let's do it now, while we're still young," and before Brittany could make her presence known, they were out the door, running and screaming like children who were allowed to play for the very first time.

Stepping out into the grand hall, Brittany felt exposed. The room, despite its majesty, was cold and too big to ever feel full. Pulling out a dining chair, she sat down, gazing around at the glazed floors and fine furniture with a look of lost hope upon her pretty young face. So Mistress Santana had left _El Palacio _and her return could not be foreseen by any of the Brittany should've felt happy about the new freedom that came with her Mistress's absence, she couldn't. She felt uneasy, unsafe almost.

...GLEE.

Much like Mercedes and Kurt, the other servants rejoiced Santana's sudden disappearance from the manor house. Tina was slipping and sliding down the polished hallways, having the best time ever as she tried to avoid the antiques that were scattered around every corner. Sam was taking advantage of the pool facilities, hardly afraid to lounge around in the Jacuzzi or blaze away in the sonar room. Rachel flitted here and there, singing at the top of her voice, something she hadn't been allowed to do when the Mistress was present. In retrospect's, no one could possibly blame them for their playfulness. They spent their lives dedicating themselves to the fearful Santana and so they felt they had a right to let loose, and would gladly do so until she returned to submit them back into their equitable roles.

Searching for company, Brittany trailed the hallway that made up the servants accommodation. She passed by her own door, fighting the desire to lock herself inside and stay there until the Mistress's homecoming. So engrossed in her mangled thoughts, the blonde had to double back to another open doorway that held the contained form of Quinn who was sitting quietly by herself, knitting in a diligent manner.

Knowing she were most likely imposing but wanting to end her solitary, Brittany tiptoed into the room. She set herself down on the edge of the woman's bed, feeling timid and unsettled. Quinn showed no dislike for her being there and barely looked up from her knitting to acknowledge her.

Brittany opened her mouth to say something but found that words escaped her completely. Running her hands over the plushy texture of the quilt, the young blonde was more than comfortable to sit in the silence. She almost flopped down onto the bed, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in dreams but stopped herself. This was Quinn's room. She had to be mindful.

"Why aren't you with the others?"

Looking up, Brittany expected Quinn to be looking right at her but she wasn't. In fact, her eyes hadn't even strayed in her direction.

"Why aren't you?" She retorted.

Quinn smiled, "I like my quiet time."

Brittany sighed, "me too. I don't think all this noise suits _El Palacio._"

"It's just because you're not used to it," Quinn said. Something flickered in her big hazel eyes, something that spoke of fear, "uh...you can't remember much of your own playtime when the Mistress is away. Believe me, you're much like Tina and Finn and the others."

"What do I usually do?"

"Anything you want," Quinn glanced up, the look in her eye had faded and she looked surprisingly calm again, "your ideas usually change every time."

Brittany nodded, accepting the answer. She watched as Quinn worked, entranced by the swiftness of her fingers as she used the woollen material to weave and loop, stitching something that Brittany knew would be just incredible.

"Whatcha making?" She asked, leaning forward to better look.

"A teddy bear," Quinn replied, "Miss Santana sometimes allows us to go to the market place in the city. I sell what I make. It gives me the opportunity to make a profit for myself."

"Is that allowed?" Brittany murmured. Surely Quinn's little business venture was not approved by Santana.

"Well I make very little money and most of it goes back to buying wool so the Mistress isn't all that concerned. I keep what I don't spend, look." Getting up and setting her knitting aside, Quinn made her way over to the window and retrieved from behind the curtain, a medium-sized silver jewellery box. She brought it over to Brittany and set it on the bed, opening it with a click.

A small handful of notes encased in an elastic band stared back at the women, immersed in a sea of silver and gold coins. A hush came over the pair; as though they were gazing down at the crown jewels or the Holy Grail. Brittany's mind went wild with the possibilities of what could be done with such money and she suddenly sorely wished she could knit or at least do _something_ that could earn her a decent wage.

"See! Not much at all," Quinn said as she snapped the lid back down and returned the box to its place on the windowsill.

"How much is that?" Brittany asked, astounded.

Quinn hesitated to answer, "maybe $5,000 in American money. It's hardly anything."

"Hardly anything," Brittany cried with happiness, "it's enough to get us away from this house. We could –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Quinn spun around, looking terrified. She approached Brittany and set her hands on her shoulders, towering over her, "there's no way in hell we're even considering this."

"Why not?" Brittany asked, peering at her innocently. They could sneak away tonight when everyone was in bed. There would be no more housework, no more living in fear. Just freedom.

"Because we can't, "Quinn's pessimism was crushing, "this is our home. To leave would be...it would bea betrayal!"

Brittany stood, shaking her head, wanting so desperately for the other blonde to agree, "A betrayal to who? The Mistress?"

"Well, yeah...and we'd never make it if we left anyway. Santana would find us and bring us back and the punishment we'd receive would be worse than dying. We'd actually _want_ to die."

"Please Quinn, we could leave tonight and –"

"No," the other blonde cut over her, quick and resolute, "we can't! We're not leaving this manor ever. In fact, we're not ever going to discuss it again."

Brittany silenced all her inner thoughts, ashamed that she had driven Quinn to the point of snapping at her. Sniffling desolately, she buried her face into the palm of her hands, trying not to cry and prove herself to be nothing more than the child the Mistress claimed her to be. She couldn't see Quinn's movements but she felt the dip in the mattress as the servant sat beside her, sighing in frustration.

"I'm sorry," Quinn muttered.

"It's okay," Brittany whimpered.

"No, it's not. It was wrong of me to be so dismissive of you," Quinn said. There was a brief pause before, "I understand you Brittany, truly I do."

"You can't, otherwise you would run away with me." She shook her head.

"You've no need to run away," Quinn laughed, "everything you want is here."

"Not everything," Brittany tittered, feeling angered that her companion was trying to dissuade her, "where's my freedom? Where's my happiness?"

Quinn chuckled softly. She pushed Brittany down onto the bed, following suit, settling herself on her side and looking down at her curiously, her smile wide and affectionate.

"You've just lost it all," she whispered gently, "you were happy here before."

"Why aren't I now then?"

"Because you've forgotten," Quinn said. She reached out to trace the tip of her finger down Brittany's nose, "you've forgotten your life here at _El Palacio _and because of that you can't settle."

"Hmm..."

"I would gladly give you the money Brittany, "the blonde continued and a sadness entered her voice that was quite heart-wrenching to endure, "but I need it for a very special reason."

Brittany closed her eyes, breathing deeply, "I'm listening." The youngster didn't understand the calmness that had overcome her. It was strange indeed. When she was with Quinn she was at ease, safe...cared for. When she was with her Mistress she was edgy, nervous and eager to please. How could two women have such different effects on her?

"As much as I'd like to confide in you," Quinn said with a sigh, "I can't. Maybe with time..."

"Is it all that bad?" Brittany queried curiously.

"No," Quinn laughed, "it's something close to my heart."

"But –"

"Promise me you won't try and leave _El Palacio_," Quinn pleaded, obviously trying to change the subject.

Brittany frowned. She wanted nothing more than to escape; especially now the Mistress was gone. She didn't feel safe in the manor house without her and yet, when she was in attendance, she was much the same. It was very confusing.

"Promise me."

Brittany sighed, "I promise."

"Good," Quinn sighed in contentment, "now come here. I'm tired."

Brittany rolled onto her side and allowed her companion's arm to drift around her waist. She nestled her nose into Quinn's neck, breathing deeply, feeling secure and loved.

"It'll get better," she whispered, "and I'm here to take care of you."

"Do you promise?" Brittany felt it was time for Quinn to pledge something too.

"Of course," came the yawned reply, "I promise," and nothing more was said for the women were too absorbed in holding one another and drifting off to sleep to speak of anything else.

...GLEE.

A few hours passed and with it came the true celebrations of the Mistress's absence. The servants had all gathered in the dining room to drink and eat, sharing in each other's joy and breathing in the hot atmosphere that reeked of enthusiasm.

Brittany clapped and crowed as she watched Finn and Rachel dance around the room, encouraged by the others who sang and cheered them on. Her worry was placated now that Quinn had promised to watch over her. She felt she had a friend she could turn to. A shoulder to cry on even. It was like having a sister. There was far less to concern herself with and her unease was shared with another heart.

"Their good aren't they?" Someone said from behind her, stirring her thoughts. She turned to find Sam walking towards her, grinning his big toothy grin, "Rachel and Finn have always been very showy. That's why they fit so well as lovers."

"Lovers?" Brittany blushed and her stomach jolted.

"Didn't you know?" Sam asked.

"No," Brittany shook her head. She leant against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest to watch Finn and Rachel a little closer, trying to see what she hadn't seen before, "I just thought they were really good friends."

Sam chuckled, "that's cute," then his tone of voice became serious, "the lovers of this house must ask Mistress Santana's permission before they join as a couple. They share a room and must conduct their love-making at night so their not distracted during the day. We've only got two couples in this household. Rachel and Finn and Kurt and Blaine."

"What? Kurt and Blaine too?" Brittany asked, astonished that she didn't know.

"Yeah. Santana's a 21st Century kind of gal. She's no homophobe," Sam explained. He cleared his throat, looking down on Brittany with his worshipping bright green eyes, "in fact, it's known to all of _Mérida _that Santana herself takes lovers of both sexes."

"You mean she's bisexual?" Brittany asked curiously. Her body suddenly purred its approval. She didn't understand it but she welcomed it nevertheless.

"She's definitely a free spirit." Sam shrugged his shoulders.

Frowning and feeling as though she were being led up to something big, Brittany turned her attention back to the dancers. Tina and Kurt had now stepped onto the floor and though they were nowhere near as impressive as Rachel and Finn they moved fluidly nonetheless.

"Brittany," Sam said, reaching for the blonde's hand, "I think you're very pretty."

"Thank you," Brittany's cheeks burned.

"And I –"

"Oh look, Quinn's dancing with Artie," she didn't want to hear what else he had to say. She almost knew what he wanted, "the poor thing will lose her toes if she isn't careful."

Sam chuckled uneasily, aware her intentions, "yeah...funny. Look, I was thinking maybe we could –"

"Hey Kurt!" The youngster waved as the pair flew past her.

"Brittany I'm trying to ask you something," Sam implored, looking desperate. He took hold of her waist and turned her to him, his gaze fixed and his smile gentle, "when the Mistress returns I want to go and see her, "he took a deep breath, "I want to ask her permission to take you as a lover."

There was stillness. The music faded into the background, the cheers died away and all Brittany could hear was those words. Lover. Lover. Lover. She didn't know what to say. She already knew the words before Sam had even spoken them but she'd still hoped they weren't true. Why would he want her? He didn't know her. They were strangers.

Sam's face brimmed with hope. He was looking down at her, waiting for an answer and Brittany felt utterly cruel for not wanting him in _that_ way. She couldn't ever imagine making love to him. She'd only lived here, in her amnesia-confused head, for a few days. She couldn't even reach back into the few years of her life here to learn whether she had ever liked him in such a romantic way.

"Well?"

"I...Sam...you're very sweet," she stammered helplessly, "but...I...I'm not ready for a lover."

"But we've worked together for so long," like Quinn, Sam's expression turned to that of guilt, like he knew something that Brittany did not, "and we like each other don't we?"

"Of course we do," Brittany said with a sigh, "but I've forgotten everything and I don't think it's right for me to get involved with anyone right now while I'm still trying to get to grips with reality," she brushed his arm, trying to be comforting, "you understand don't you?"

"I guess so," he muttered.

"I'm sorry." Brittany didn't like upsetting him.

"It's alright," Sam said, shrugging, "I'd better go. I've got work to do."

"Sam, wait..." Brittany begged. She reached out to grasp hold of him but came up empty-handed. He was gone.

Sighing and knowing she had done the wrong thing by rejecting the handsome young man, Brittany sat. She pulled a glass of wine that Mercedes and Kurt had taken from the cellar towards her and guzzled it in one gulp. So much for having fun.

...GLEE.

The festivities went on well past 9:00pm. The dining hall was still alive with the beating hearts of the servants but now instead of watching Rachel and Finn, all attention was set on Brittany and the way she moved to the hypnotic melody of some unknown tune on the radio.

Brittany had discovered only tonight her love for dance. She couldn't recall ever being good at it or ever having enjoyed it and yet here she was, feeling her body thrill at each perfect movement, relishing in the rolling of her hips and the swaying of her gazelle-like form.

Dance. It was such a good thing. It made her forget – something she wanted _desperately_ to achieve. She wanted to forget her confusion and pain, her heartache, her understanding of nothing and everything, her youthfulness, her desire to be anywhere but here and most of all; she wanted to forget the mere Brittany-ness of herself.

The chants of her friends grew louder and louder as she worked harder to compel them with her elegant ways. She tossed her head here and there, shifting and throwing her hands above her head in a manner that was gratifying to the senses of anyone who looked upon her.

If it had not been for the music blaring, someone might have heard the car pulling up outside the drive.

If it had not been for the screaming encouragements, the footsteps might've been detected by the likes of Rachel or Artie.

If Brittany had not been dancing so erotically the group as whole may have seen the door crashing open with a great, insidious bang...

No one failed, however, to see the glaze of pure fury upon Mistress Santana's face as she looked upon her servants, enjoying themselves so fantastically...

"_What the fuck do you all think you're doing?" _

**I know I'm evil to leave it on a cliff-hanger but it just felt done. I'll update soon. So what did you think of this chapter? Thanks for reading. Review please. **


	5. The Punishment And Mixed Emotions

**Hey guys. Thank you very much for the reviews of the last chapter. I was really pleased with your reactions to Sam and Quinn and of course, Santana. I hope I've updated quick enough and you'll be pleased with what I've come up with. **

**Warning: The beginning of this chapter contains a violent Santana. If you don't like it, don't read. Don't bitch at me in a review. You've been warned.**

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Glee. **

**Chapter 4 – The Punishment and Mixed Emotions**

"I said, what the _fuck_ do you think your all doing?"

Utter silence fell upon the dining room and in mere seconds the servants had flung themselves to their knees, trembling uncontrollably at having been caught being so reckless. The anger that was sweltering through Santana could not be controlled or understood. Her face was contorted with hatred and her eyes glowed dangerously against the shadows and the dim light. Everything about her spoke of anger that evening and the air was thick and bleak with what was to come.

"Close the doors Blaine," he was the only one she would spare tonight for he had been with her all day, acting as her chauffer, "go to your room."

Blaine's gaze was fixed on Kurt, afraid for the man that he loved, "Mistress, _please_."

"OUT!" Santana stormed towards him, "I'LL DEAL WITH THEM AS I WISH!"

Blaine darted out the room as quick as his legs would carry him. He spared one final glance over his shoulder at the others, apologetic, before he closed the doors behind him with a foreboding snap.

Leaning against the grand piano, Santana emptied her pockets of her cigar case and lighter. She turned to the first person within her sight – Finn and barked out an order.

"Fetch me an ashtray! Be quick about it!"

He obeyed immediately, looking relieved to be leaving the room, even if it was only for a few seconds. While she waited, Santana pulled up a chair and sat, crossing her legs before she opened the silver case and took out a cigar. She could feel every eye upon her as she lit up and it filled her with an ever-growing anger that she felt could not be contained by anything. How dare they meet her gaze? How dare they be so inattentive in her home?

Bringing the cigar to her lips and inhaling for the first time, Santana sighed, "so, does anyone want to tell me who orchestrated this deceitful behaviour?"

Finn returned with the ashtray and with a bow, set it down on the piano. Santana's next move was instantaneous. She lashed out with her foot and kicked him square in the stomach, sending him flying to the floor in a heap. Rachel gasped and made to move to attend to him.

"Don't!" the Latina hissed, "touch him and you'll wish you'd never been born."

Rachel hesitated but stayed where she was. Her eyes drifted back and forth from Santana to Finn and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, looking anxious.

"I hope you've all have had such a _wonderful_ time tonight," she said, her voice sickly sweet, "because you'll certainly pay for it when I'm finished," she stood and taking a hasty drag of her cigar, set it down in the ashtray, "let's see..."

Wandering around the room, she gestured to the chairs, "hmm, furniture pulled out from their usual places," picking a chair up she slung it across the room. Everyone flinched as it hit the wall, cracking a framed portrait and leaving a dent in the picture, "there. That looks better!" Santana smiled.

"Mistress –" Tina began.

"_Shut up_," Santana growled, pointing an accusing finger at the young Asian woman, "I didn't say any of you could speak. In fact, I never want to look upon your faces again. This is my home, one that I have offered up to every last one of you and how am I best repaid? I find you _defacing_ it, using it as some sort of tool for your childish games."

She made a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn of the room before she stopped in front of Sam. Gripping him firmly by the hair, she yanked up, relishing in his agonised cry.

"DO YOU ALL TAKE ME AS A FUCKING IDIOT? DO I LOOK LIKE A CUDDLY LITTLE KITTEN?" She screamed in his face, "DID YOU THINK I'D JUST LET YOU ALL HAVE YOUR FUCKING WAYS? MAYBE I SHOULD DISPOSE OF YOU ALL," pulling him back further and further by the hair, it was a wonder she didn't break his neck. It was a pitiful sight to see such a powerful man cowering before a woman as small as Santana, "MAYBE I SHOULD START AFRESH. BUY SERVANTS WHO ARE WORTHY OF THIS HOUSE! HMM! WHAT DO YOU THINK? SHOULD I GET RID OF YOU ALL? HAVE YOU DISAPPEAR INTO THE BACKGROUND?"

"For...forgive us Mistress," Sam pleaded, his face burning red.

Santana laughed short and bitter and shoved him back down to the ground, releasing him. He gasped his relief and collapsed against his hands, breathing as though he would never breathe again.

"Now," the brunette said in a sing-song voice, "what else have you worthless pieces of shit taken advantage of."

She walked back over to the piano and picked up her cigarette. She took a deep, drawn out drag, her hands shaking under the weight of her rage. She reached out to snatch up the half-drunk bottle of wine that was set on the edge of the piano and sighed, shaking her head. All her giving just wasn't enough. She tried to be a fair and decent Mistress but how was that possible when they sought to take her home and property and use it in such an abusive manner.

"So whose idea was this?" She asked, brandishing the bottle so everyone could see.

No voices met her. No one would confess. They were cowards.

"Disappointing," Santana sighed. She approached Artie who had lifted his eyes to find her gaze. With a satisfied chuckle, she tipped the bottle upside down and watched as the contents sloshed and poured over his huddled form. Kneeling down, she struck him with the palm of her hand and grinned ruthlessly, "drown yourself in it."

Satisfied that she had done enough damage to force them into compliance with anything she demanded, the fiery brunette hurled the bottle across the room where it smashed and scattered across the polished floor. Turning to another chair, she did much the same. She gripped it firmly in her hands and with an almighty grunt sent it flying over the top of her servant's heads. Storming over to the front of the hall, she slid her hands over an expensive clutter of antiques and swept them aside. A few of the servants lifted their heads to better see what else their Mistress could destroy. Flaring her nostrils, the young woman sensed their fear. She could smell and taste it in the air.

"Now here's what I propose," she said tapping her cigar carelessly and watching as the ash drifted amongst the clutter. She didn't care if she was making a mess. She didn't have to clean it. "I will go from room to room trashing and destroying everything in my wake and when I'm done I'll turn to you and I'll do the same!" She watched Rachel out of the corner of her eye. The brunette was trembling violently for she knew the Latina meant business, "but I'm willing to give you all the benefit of the doubt _if_ one of you sad saps is brave enough to step up and take the responsibility and punishment that is deserved for this disrespect that has been inflicted upon me."

Once again, no voices met her. No one moved as Santana expected. The very sight of her spineless slaves made her stomach clench with sickness. Oh she longed to strike every last one of them until they were black and blue.

"I thought it would be this way," she sighed.

"Mistress..." Quinn hesitated as she stood. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, "I...I..." She trailed off.

"Well," Santana said, waiting, "speak."

"I...I will take responsibility," Quinn answered.

Santana said nothing for a while. She stared down on the young blonde servant, both amused and bewildered that she was willing to take the fall for something that was most likely not her idea in the first place.

"You take responsibility?" She asked.

Quinn nodded, "yes Miss."

Santana grimaced for she was not happy with the answer she'd been given. With a sigh, she gestured to the floor, "get on your knees then," she ordered. She didn't want to punish Quinn but she had to set an example.

Doing as she was told, the trembling servant got down on her knees. She braced herself, the features of her face brimming with terror as she waited. Santana pushed aside all her own feelings and forced herself to become cold and distant. Unbuckling her belt, she pulled it away from her expensive black trouser and doubled it over 'til it was thicker in solidity. Swiping it down on her hand twice, she felt the cold sting of what Quinn would receive and nodded, satisfied.

"Let this be a reminder to all of you," she said, raising the belt above her head, "I'll not be crossed again," and throwing all of her body weight down, she slammed the belt through the air and towards the submissive servant.

A cry of protest sounded through the air but Santana had already surrendered her first strike. There was a quick whooshing sound followed by that of leather breaking through material and perhaps skin and when Santana looked down she was met with a startling sight.

The cry that had filled the hall had not belonged to Quinn at all but Brittany. The child, in the midst of the attack had flung herself over Quinn's body, cradling her to take the first brutal lash. Santana almost dropped the belt in shock. The youngsters back, now visible from the torn material was red and enflamed. She hadn't broken the flesh but it looked painful.

"What's the meaning of this?" She demanded. She stubbed out her cigar in the ashtray and turned her back on Brittany, hardly able to look down upon her.

"Please," came the whimpered reply. Brittany sounded as though she were hurting very bad, "don't do this. Quinn's done nothing wrong."

"That's my decision to make," Santana replied darkly, "but I'm prepared to be merciful. Will you take the punishment instead of her?"

Brittany didn't hesitate, "yes." She said.

Turning on her heel, Santana frowned down at the girl who lay at her feet. Where had this courage come from? No one else had volunteered to take the punishment for Quinn. Why should Brittany? For a moment, she believed the blonde was bluffing but then she looked into her deep earnest blue eyes and knew that she spoke the truth.

A stirring of mixed emotions overcame the Mistress as she watched Quinn muttering to Brittany, pleading with her to reconsider. The youngster could not be persuaded it seemed for she shifted away from Quinn and then turned to look up at Santana expectantly.

"Very well," The Latina said nodding and with a tight lipped growl of regret, she brought the belt down onto Brittany's back again.

There was little that could be done to stop their Mistress and so the others watched, with heavy hearts and tears in their eyes as the innocent amongst them, the one who did not belong, was whipped repeatedly. Brittany's cries echoed through the hall, animal like and agonised. Her work dress was torn to pieces by the fifth lash and her back was blood red under the weight of the ferocious beating.

"I...WILL...HAVE...CONTROL...IN...MY...OWN...HOUSE!" Santana bellowed breathlessly as the belt fell upon Brittany's spine again for the eighth time, "DO...I...MAKE...MYSELF...CLEAR?"

"Yes Mistress," the servants replied.

"AND...I'LL HAVE...NO MORE FOOLISHNESS!" Brittany's shriek echoed over her own words, "YOU WORK FOR ME! MY SERVANTS! MY SLAVES!"

There was one final _crack _of the whip and the blonde buckled in exhaustion, her frail body sinking to the floor. Santana stared down at her, wide-eyed and ragged with rage. She could hardly believe that one woman could hold so much strength and acceptance. Even now, after her punishment, Brittany was gazing up at her, searching, wondering and pleading for forgiveness. It was a fascinating sight, something that left Santana's body clammy with pleasure and revulsion.

Flinging her belt onto the piano, Santana stepped away from Brittany. She looked upon her other servants, scowling.

"Are you happy now?" She spat, "are you proud of yourselves?" It was almost as though she were asking herself rather than them. Hurting Brittany in such a way hadn't left her satisfied at all. It only made her feel ten times worse.

Leaning down, she brushed a strand of hair out of Brittany's face to gaze down on her. The blonde was drenched in sweat and her teeth chattered like she was freezing cold. Her back was thick with welts, deep and raw to the eye.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Santana snarled at the others, "get out of my sight! You can clean up this mess in the morning."

Quinn moved to aid Brittany, reaching out to her, "leave. I'll deal with her myself." Santana growled.

"But Mistress," Quinn whimpered, "she's badly hurt. Let me tend to her...please."

"No," Santana shook her head, glaring at Quinn, warning her away with her eyes "leave us."

The blonde looked as though the last thing she wanted to do was leave but Santana knew she would obey tonight for fear of a further punishment. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to Brittany's forehead and smoothed her hair back out of her face. Santana ignored the bitter stabbing that entered her heart at the sight of them. In her head, she saw a different scenario – one in which she herself stooped to kiss Brittany, one in which Brittany responded openly.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she waited for Quinn to leave before she turned to Brittany with a dissatisfied sigh, "can you stand?" Her voice strained against all the shouting she had done and so she didn't sound as authoritative as she would've liked.

"I think so."

"Good," Santana said. She took hold of Brittany's arm and hoisted her, recoiling as the youngster whimpered in pain, "come on."

"Where are we going?" Brittany asked weakly.

Santana didn't answer. Turning her back on the blonde, she released her and began a steady pace across the dining hall. The shuffling of shoes against the floor offered evidence that Brittany followed.

...GLEE.

Brittany ached in places she didn't know was possible.

Trailing the Mistress, she stepped into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her, dying to cry out as another current of agony surged down her back and into her legs. She was very aware of Santana's movements, even if her eyes were drowning in uncontrollable tears. She watched as the woman went through into another room, leaving her alone in the splendour to bask in her own aching misery.

Brittany certainly didn't regret her decision to take the punishment instead of Quinn. It was only right to keep her safe after they had promised to take care of one another earlier that evening. Brittany knew she would spend the rest of her life trying to protect Quinn and likewise from the most well respected servant of _El Palacio_. She would receive a thousand lashes if it meant she was doing the right thing.

An exasperated sigh resonating through the room indicated that Mistress Santana had returned.

Staggering forward, trying to find a chair to collapse into, Brittany crumbled. Dizzy and feeling as though she were dying, she barely registered a pair of gentle arms encased around her waist, supporting her and preventing her from ever reaching the ground.

"I'm going to put you on the bed, okay?" Santana's breath was in her ear, warm and reassuring and a moment later, Brittany found herself resting on something soft, lying on her side.

The pain was excruciating and Brittany wished she could fight it off. She wanted to pretend that she wasn't hurting so the Mistress could feel little satisfaction that she had gotten to her but it was impossible. Every breath Brittany took was like a step closer to death. Too much pain. Too unendurable.

"I'm going to remove your dress so I can take a better look at these wounds," Santana said. It was strange to hear her Mistress's voice so soft. Brittany couldn't quite understand how the woman who sought to make her life a living hell could be so attentive in tending to her. This had happened twice since yesterday morning.

Feeling the material of her work-clothes being tugged up gently, Brittany lifted her head to accommodate Santana as she undressed her. She felt the cool air lick against her bare skin and suddenly felt too exposed. She was lying before her Mistress in only her bra and underwear and she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide forever. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her shredded dress fall down the side of the bed, forgotten completely. A moment later, the warm compression of something against her back startled her and crying out, she flinched and tried to pull herself up.

"Stay still," Santana told her impatiently.

"What are you doing?" Brittany gasped breathlessly.

"I'm cleaning your back with warm water and vodka," the Latina replied, "it'll help with the swelling."

Accepting the answer, Brittany sunk back down onto the mattress, too exhausted to shrug the woman off of her. Santana was very gentle in her nursing, dabbing and rubbing lightly and trying not to upset her patient by applying too much pressure. Brittany couldn't help but gasp and sob as her tender spine twitched under the care. It hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before.

"You think I'm cruel, don't you?"

Brittany opened her eyes and turned her head to the side curiously. She met the startling night-like gaze of her Mistress and felt her stomach churn uncomfortably.

"You _are_ cruel yes," she figured she'd already suffered as bad as she could get and she cared little if she received another punishment, "all you want to do is hurt things."

Surprise flashed across Santana's face but it was quickly replaced by a look of contempt, "now that's an exaggeration," she answered coolly, "if I'd wanted you to really hurt I'd have left you on the floor in the dining room."

"I wish you had," Brittany spat, enraged, "I wish you'd just left me to die."

Santana chuckled, "how quick your respect as flown away child."

"I can't respect someone who treats me no better than a dog," Brittany closed her eyes tight as Santana applied more pressure to her back, most likely to silence her, "why are you even bothering to help me now?"

Santana sighed, "because being your Mistress gives me the right to punish you when its required but being your Mistress also enslaves me with the obligation to care for you when its needed."

"You're not helping any of the others," Brittany replied.

"I only have one pair of hands," Santana snorted, "and besides, their injuries are nothing in comparison to what I've done to you tonight," her voice turned sad, "why did you step in to save Quinn?"

Brittany looked up, "for the same reason Quinn stepped in. To protect the others."

Santana stood abruptly, displeased with the answer it seemed. She took the damp cloth away from Brittany's back and wandered into the other room again, out of sight. Brittany listened to her footsteps, trying to decipher what she might be doing but coming up empty-handed with any sort of conclusion. Pulling herself up to a sitting position, she waited for her Mistress to return, covering her chest with her arms and hoping to soon be dismissed so she could rest and forget this terrible ordeal.

"I have something for you to wear," Santana said, walking back into the room with a pale yellow nightdress in her hands, "it's not what you're used to, but it'll do."

"Thank you Miss," Brittany stood and reached out to take the item but flushed with embarrassment when Santana pulled it back, shaking her head.

"Lift your arms," the Latina ordered.

Doing just that, Brittany resisted the urge to run, feeling the sultry gaze of her Mistress. Santana's watch was intoxicating. It was as if she was touching her with her eyes. It would've felt less incredible and terrifying if the woman _had_ touched her.

Lifting the nightdress, Santana tugged it over the slave girls head, assisting her to bring her arms into the armholes and dragging it down the length of her body. Brittany shuddered against the gentle care of Santana, enjoying the way in which her hands moulded down her body. It terrified her that she could feel something so unusually good about the woman who had just punished her so unashamedly in front of her friends. She hated her, wanting to hurt her as she had been hurt and yet, she was pleased with the attention, Sam's words of the Mistress echoed through her head. _Santana herself takes lovers of both sexes. Santana herself takes lovers of both sexes._

"There," the brunette crooned, her gaze set on Brittany's mouth, "much better."

Brittany nodded; unsure of what to do or how to break this spell that was cast between them.

"I saw your dancing."

Brittany frowned, "what?"

"Just as I came in, before I started shouting," Santana took a step towards her, licking her lips, "you were dancing. Very well, I might add."

Brittany swallowed the lump in her throat, taking a step back. Her Mistress took another step forward and another and another until it turned into a game of sorts, Brittany dodging and Santana following, hunting. The chase eventually came to an end however when Brittany felt her back thud into the wall. She gasped, as a ripple of pain seared up her shoulders, and arched her body forward, only to be met with Santana who was standing so close they could've almost been one person.

"You'll have to dance privately for me one day," she leant in to whisper, "I'd like to see what you can really do."

Brittany lowered her gaze to her shoes, trying to ignore the sweetness of Santana's perfume, "may I go now Miss?"

The smirk on Santana's face fell. She looked disappointed but she stepped away from the blonde nonetheless. Brittany breathed deeply, feeling her world fall back into place again.

"You're excused from work tomorrow."

Brittany turned to look over her shoulder, "Mistress?"

"You heard me," Santana told her. She walked over to the other side of the room and stood by the open window, looking out into the night, "your back is badly bruised. There's no need to make it any worse."

Brittany smiled and bowed, "thank you Miss Santana."

There was a gruff reply that the blonde couldn't decipher, but the way Santana was waving her away with her hand was evidence enough that she was dismissed. Turning swiftly, Brittany threw open the bedroom door and scampered out into the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her. She darted around corners, nearly knocking into cupboards and suits of armour, running faster and faster, her heart screaming and pounding like a big bass drum. Reaching her room, she slammed the door behind her and fell onto her bed with a heavy sigh. Why was she trembling so aggressively? Why was her mind wild with thoughts of the woman she hated more than anything else in the world?

Clutching her burning stomach, the injured Brittany tightened her trembling legs together and looked up at the ceiling, wanting to cry.

"What's _wrong_ with me?" She sniffled.

**I know things haven't really picked up but they will, I promise. Let me know what you thought of this. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll update soon. **


	6. In The Stables

**Hey guys. So I know it's been a little while since I updated but life has been pretty hectic and I just didn't have the time. I hope you're still around and willing to read because I have quite the chapter coming your way. I'm sure you'll all be pleasantly surprised by what is still to come in this story.**

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I've imagined what it would be like to own all the rights to Glee but imagination only takes you so far...regrettably.**

**Chapter 5 – In The Stables**

_Brittany was surrounded in a swirl of white fog, thick and hazy and intimidating. She had no idea where she was or what she was doing but she knew she wasn't supposed to be here. _

_Turning and looking over her shoulder, (though it was impossible to see) the anxious blonde listened intently. There was no noise in the distance, no imposing threat or indication that she were in danger. She was simply very much alone. _

_Hesitantly, Brittany took a step forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, even it were merely a tree or a vehicle of some sort. She looked here and there, left and right and sighed in defeat. Nada. Just the mist and the stillness. Haunting. Dark. Icy._

"_Hello?" Brittany called out, loud and clear. _

_Where was the manor house? Where were her friends? Quinn or Artie? Anyone really._

"_Hello...is anybody out there?" Taking another step forward, Brittany shuddered. She had just noticed for the very first time that she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. How she hadn't noticed before was beyond her comprehension for her feet were almost blue against the cold. _

"_Is anyone there? Please." She ran her hands down her body anxiously, feeling the silky material of an outfit that wasn't hers. Looking down, Brittany frowned, taking in the white floral knee-length dress. It was beautiful indeed, with intricate patterns and little splashes of glitter set into the hem. It was almost as though the fabric had been sown to her for it fit against her body perfectly, showing off her slenderness and every delicate curve._

"_What is this?" Brittany mumbled bewildered, bunching up the bottom of the dress in her trembling hands to better examine it, "where am I?" _

_As though to answer her question, the fog began to part, clearing into nothingness and casting some light into the dark. In the far distance, a murky outline of something broke through the light. What was that? She couldn't see at all but she knew it was moving._

"_Quinn, is that you?" She whimpered, stepping back, scared, "Mercedes? Finn, you there?" _

_The thing...or number of things drew closer, still lost in the haze. Brittany strained her eyes, trying to make out what had joined her in the fog. Her heart was pounding violently. She had never been more terrified in all her life. The notion that whatever was there was dangerous filled her with unreserved fear. She didn't think she could face whatever was out there. _

_A few more seconds of silence passed and the shape grew more defined. Brittany could see now, four people heading in her direction. Although she couldn't make out their faces the blonde knew it wasn't any of her friends. _

"_He...hello," she stammered timidly, stepping back again._

_One of the figures stopped, set slightly apart from the others. It was clear this being acted as the leader for when it stopped, so did its company. Brittany wanted to run and hide but no matter her desire, she couldn't. She was frozen to the floor, her fear overriding her sense. _

"_Oh my Brittany," a gentle womanly voice suddenly said over the cold and the fog. It most definitely belonged to the first figure, "we miss you so much." _

_Brittany's lips moved, forming words that she had no control over. _

"_Who are you?" _

_The voice laughed, the most _beautiful_ voice in the world, "we're you. The people that created you." _

"_I don't understand," Brittany muttered but a different part of her conscience – the brighter half recognised the people somehow, "how can you be me?"_

_A wind rustled around them, parting the great clouds that danced overhead. It was certainly helpful to Brittany, as though God was smiling on her, for now the people that stood opposite her were almost within her vision. Stepping forward a little, Brittany observed. She couldn't quite make out all of her companions features but there was something...something familiar. _

_One of them, the smallest, was a boy, young and soft with fine brown hair and big bold eyes. She couldn't decipher any of his other features but she could _feel_ his hunger to be close to her. The second being was also young but more woman than child. Brittany could see she was tall, much like herself, though what else there was to dwell on she didn't know for the top half of her face was immersed in the fog. Her smile was evidence enough however; that she was happy to see Brittany and that, for now was more than enough. The third person in the party was a man. He too was tall and he had fine muscular shoulders. She could just make out his handsome face, his kind eyes – like the boys, and adoring, broad smile. The way he looked at her, so loving made Brittany feel as though she would never hurt again. _

"_Ah, you see us darling," the fourth person whom she couldn't see said, "I knew you would. Come. Come on." It was a definitely a woman and on further inspection Brittany could see that she was holding her arms out, waiting._

"_Come on," the woman said again, "come closer." _

_The fog swirled around them again, cloaking the world in white. Brittany felt her chest tighten and her soul cry out in longing. Where were they? Why were they leaving her? She had yet to even see the woman who was speaking with the gentle voice. _

"_Wait...where are you?" Brittany lifted her hands, feeling blindly. She staggered forward, her bare feet dragging across the ground. _

"_Come here..." the woman called out. _

"_I'm trying. Wait for me." _

_All white. Nothing to see. Brittany made to move again but was brought backwards, flung to the ground by something tight that was fastened suddenly under her chin. Glancing down in horror, she found a heavy chain latched around her neck. It swung back and forth, to and fro, so heavy, too constricting. _

"_Help me!" She cried out, trying to wrench herself free, yanking and pulling at the heavy contraption, wanting it to disappear forever._

_No one answered. There was only silence and fog. Nothing more. _

"_Come to me..." _

_Brittany stopped struggling and looked up, blinking in perplexity. She looked around, hopeful of seeing _them_ again. _

"_Come here," the voice was different this time and Brittany recognised its glorious husk almost instantly, "come to your Mistress." _

_In the distance, a light appeared. It was like a spotlight on a stage, offering light only to the woman standing under its gentle love. Santana was waiting for her, dark eyes set upon her quivering form, enjoying the fear she instilled. _

"_Come," she said again and Brittany, not wanting to be anywhere near her, began to struggle again, crawling on her hands and knees, desperate to get away. _

"_Oh no you don't," Mistress Santana chuckled, "you're mine." _

"_No I'm not," Brittany sobbed. She scratched at the ground, her nails splitting and bleeding under the ferocity in which she tried to escape, "I'm theirs," she thought of the people in the fog, "I'm theirs!" _

_There was suddenly a great tug and Brittany was lying flat on her face, trying to get up. She looked over her shoulder at her Mistress, taking in her lush dark eyes and wicked smile. She truly was a most evil creature. Malicious and dark. _

"_What do you want?" The blonde sniffled._

_Santana, she could see for the first time was holding the end of the chain that held her captive. She was dressed quite lavishly in a sparkling black dress and her hair was arranged into an elegant bun with a few choice curls hanging loose around her beautiful Latin face. _

"_I want you child," her Mistress said gently and she began to pull at Brittany's chain, dragging her to her feet, "yes you _do_ see what I want. You know as well as me. You want it too." _

"_No. I'm mine." _

"_You're mine and that's final," Santana growled._

_Closer and closer Brittany got to her. Her body dragged viciously across the ground, each gravelly pebble digging into her back, each stone creating another aspect of pain in her already feeble body. _

"_Please, leave me alone," the blonde whimpered._

"_Never," Santana laughed._

_Brittany kicked up off the ground, trying to get to her feet. She screamed out to the people hiding in the fog, begging for assistance. _

"_Don't leave me," she cried._

"_Mine!" _

"_Please help."_

"_My slave. My girl." _

"_Please. Don't leave me. Don't leave..."_

...Brittany shot up from her bed, heaving and twisting, demanding freedom and feeling for the chain around her neck, trying to claw her way loose. With a frenzied enthusiasm, she gazed around her quiet bedroom, searching for the fog and her mysterious guests and when, finding nothing dropped her hands, foolishly realising it had all been a dream.

"There there, it's okay," someone said to her left and Brittany almost leapt out from under the covers, hardly aware that she had company. Turning her gaze to the sound, she found Sam sitting beside her looking concerned and caring, smiling tenderly.

"You're frightened me," she chuckled lightly, holding a hand to her chest.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "but it's okay now. You're safe. You're fine."

Brittany pulled the sheets up around her, hiding her exposed legs from her friends wandering eye. She couldn't quite understand it, but she was extremely uncomfortable around Sam...too uncomfortable for words almost.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be patrolling with Finn?" She asked.

Sam laughed, "sometimes we take shifts. I got up really early this morning to do mine and then when I was done I decided to come and see you," he leant across and brushed a strand of hair from the young woman's face, making her shift nervously, "I'm so sorry about last night. How's your back?"

Brittany pulled away from his touch, "it's a little sore but I'm sure in a few days the pain will be gone completely."

"We should've done something," Sam berated himself, shaking his head, "we should've taken the punishment ourselves."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Brittany murmured. She didn't care that the others hadn't been brave enough to defend her. It was done now and there was no point in worrying over it. What the agitated blonde was more concerned about were the people in her dreams. It was bizarre but she felt as though she knew them. Like _really_ knew them.

"It was unforgivable," Sam took hold of Brittany's hands. It was as though he couldn't stop himself from touching her, "I asked you to be my lover last night and in the first test of my strength I betrayed you."

"Sam please..."

"No Brittany," he cut over her, "upon your refusal I swore I would do my damndest to change your mind and yet, I couldn't even stand up to the Mistress when you needed me."

"Miss Santana is too strong a person to overcome," Brittany sighed, "besides, you're here now aren't you?"

"Yes," Sam's relief came out in a breathy laugh, "you're right. Now's my chance to protect you, right here, right now. Tell me what you want me to do."

Brittany looked up and down, from Sam's hopeful face to their joined hands. Her skin was crawling with the need to push him away. She didn't want him as a lover. He was so awkward. Not her type in the least.

"I really just wanna rest," she answered meekly, "my head is sore."

"Oh. Would you like me to get you some painkillers?" Sam looked disappointed in her reply, his smile dropping from his handsome face.

"No thanks." The blonde squeezed his hands.

"Well how about I stay and keep you company? You looked like you were having some sort of nightmare earlier." Brittany almost rolled her eyes. Couldn't he just take a hint?

"I really wanna be on my own."

Sighing, but ultimately accepting the answer, Sam stood.

"I should probably head off to join Finn on guard anyway," he tried to appear nonchalant, as though her rejection was nothing. He arranged Brittany's blankets around her, neatly pulling them in and over her knees, trying to make her comfortable, "could I see you later? Stop by and see how you're feeling?"

"Of course." _No_!

Sam grinned, looking a little more reassured. He stooped down and lightly pressed his lips to Brittany's forehead, "I'm gonna make you see how much of an excellent lover I'll make," he promised.

Brittany didn't know what to say so she said nothing. She swallowed the lump in her throat, uneasy with the guard's desperate longing for her. Sam barely recognised the look of displeasure on her face. On the contrary, he all but strutted out of the room, looking very pleased with himself. Brittany knew she couldn't encourage him in the least if she were to get rid of him, though Sam was not particularly on her mind now that he'd left. Already the young blonde's thoughts had strayed to her dream and her Mistress who had torn her away from the people within it.

...GLEE.

It was such a beautiful day that Brittany simply couldn't resist getting up out of bed to throw open her bedroom window and look out into the never-ending daylight.

_El Palacio_ truly was an amazing place. The grand palace like house was not only the most splendid thing in all of _Mérida _but the grounds that surrounded it were something to be admired too. Brittany understood that her Mistress must've been a remarkably wealthy woman. The gardens were filled with perfectly sculpted statues, (angels and mermaids and other mythical creatures) flowers, some in which Brittany could not even identify were all over the grounds, arranged in delicate beds of dirt. Around them, the birds hopped, the bees buzzed and the butterflies fluttered, worshipping the heady natural scent that emitted from each precious bud. The trees were impossibly big. They stood all along the outer perimeter of the garden wall. They were like giants whose sole purpose was to keep traitors out and slaves _in._ It was too much of a beautiful place. It was the Garden of Eden...a world of temptation.

Maybe it was her eagerness to feel the soft green grass between her toes or the mere stuffiness of her small room but Brittany was overcome suddenly with the desire to be outside amongst nature.

Sighing complacently, the blonde stepped away from the window and went into the bathroom. She tended to herself quickly, showering and cleaning her teeth. After drying her hair and pulling on one of her casual dresses (specifically for non-working days) the youngster made her way through the house and out into the gardens.

Being out and about in the open was exactly what Brittany needed. Removing her shoes to feel the cool ground against her feet, she began to stroll, enjoying the quiet of the day and feeling a little better about herself.

The world seemed to sense her presence for the wind whispered in the trees and the birds flew around her curiously, trying to get closer and closer but eventually giving way to fear and soaring off to safety. Brittany giggled at their daring. She held out her hands to the little creatures, encouraging them forward and cooing to them softly. It was good to be outside. Brittany realised as she bent down to sniff at a pretty purple flower that she hadn't left _El Palacio_ since her return almost a week ago. Now, in this moment, breathing in the sweet nectar of everything around her, she realised what she'd missed and what she needed.

The sound of something (hooves?) heading in her direction caught her attention. Turning, blinking in confusion, the servant saw a figure approaching on horseback. The pace of the great beast was fast and steady and in no time at all she found herself looking up at her Mistress, her body already trembling in anticipation.

Santana looked regal and powerful indeed on top of the russet coloured mare. She was dressed smartly in riding clothes. Her fine white tunic-like shirt was tucked into dark brown leggings that were accompanied by pure black boots scuffed from years of riding. Her hair was tugged back out of her face in a high ponytail and though she was beautiful indeed the look made her seem harder, even more impenetrable if it were possible. She held onto its thick reigns in a casual manner that plainly spoke of her control over the animal. The idea that Miss Santana could make everything in existence (yes she believed that) submit to her filled Brittany with a burning that coursed up and down her body.

"Child," by the expression on Santana's face, she was surprised to see her, "what are you doing out here?"

Brittany brought herself to the ground and knelt. She kept her eyes averted from her Mistress, already thinking back to the dream and how the woman had dragged her along in the cold and mist, intent on having her way.

"Miss Santana," she said respectfully, "I'm sorry. I had nothing to do and I thought a little air would help."

"If I'd known you were going to be bored I'd have assigned you work," Santana replied sarcastically.

"Oh," Brittany blushed, "sorry. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be out here. I'll go in right away."

"There's no need for that," Santana said. She climbed down from her horse and patted its neck before making her way over to Brittany, "stand."

The blonde, as usual, obeyed. She got to her feet, pulling on her shoes and faced her Mistress, biting down hard on her bottom lip as she waited further instruction.

"You're not busy, as you've proven, so you can help me in the stables," Santana said and motioning with her hand, she led Brittany down one of the many winding paths that made up _El Palacio's_ grounds.

Brittany wasn't aware that her Mistress owned horses or that the manor house even houses stables. It seemed as though every day brought along a new revelation – a new discovery.

"You like animals?" Santana called back to her.

"Oh yes ma'am," Brittany replied, "though I'm not so sure about horses. Their very big."

Santana chuckled, "nonsense. You'll see."

They came to a halt outside a large towering building that was just as big in length as it was in height. With its grand old wooden exterior and musty smell, Brittany knew it must've held at least a dozen horses, probably more.

"Impressive isn't it?" Santana said in a smug voice, "it's my families pride and joy. We've had it for years." She pushed open the stable door and began to lead the horse inside. Brittany tiptoed behind her, eyes searching everywhere, taking in the barrels of hay and the infinite stalls of horses.

"Do you know how to de-saddle a horse?"

Brittany shook her head.

"Then I'll see to that," Santana muttered gruffly, "you can fill up her water bucket." She motioned to a small rusted tap set up against the wall.

Brittany did as she was asked and took a big heavy bucket and filled it to the top with water. It was even heavier as she brought it back to her Mistress but she did her best not to complain and bowed as she set it down on the floor in the small but quaint stable. Santana had already removed her horse's saddle and reigns by the time Brittany had returned. She looked so secure here, amongst the hay and the clutter. It was strange to behold _and_ wonderful.

Leaning against the wall, Brittany watched her Mistress work. Santana was standing beside her horse, brushing its fur gently and murmuring to it in soft undertones. The animal, so big and wild, stood completely still, letting the Latina tend to its needs, snorting it pleasure every time she patted its flank. Then, as though aware of Brittany's watch, turned to look at her. Brittany glanced away, blushing. She had been caught staring and it felt somewhat disrespectful to be looking at her Mistress as though she were an equal.

"Come here," Santana ordered.

Brittany tucked her hair behind her ear timidly and tiptoed over, feeling as though her stomach were about to hit the ground. Santana snatched up her arm and dragged her forward so she was now standing in front with her Mistress right behind her, breathing deeply into her ear.

"You can stroke her," she said.

"She...she won't bite me will she?" Brittany whimpered.

"No," Santana chuckled, "she's really gentle. Here." She took hold of Brittany's hand and brought it up to rest on the horses back. With incredible tenderness, she guided the servant's hands, lacing their fingers together to run them down the horse's side.

Brittany lost her ability to breathe in that moment. She was too busy gazing at her Mistress's fingers, enthralled by the mixture of their skin tones, creamy white against Hispanic yellow. Santana was so soft and silky and she hadn't expected that. Now however, with the woman standing behind her, Brittany felt strange. Aroused.

"There," Santana crooned. She took a step closer to Brittany so they were _almost_ touching, "you just have to be gentle," and as though agreeing completely, the horse whinnied.

"She's sweet," the blonde said, "what's her name?"

"Argo."

"Hmm, Argo," Brittany murmured, "pretty."

"Yeah," Santana turned her head to look at Brittany, "she is."

A few seconds of silence passed and by now Brittany had both hands on the horse, stroking softly.

"You know, horses are like any other animal," Santana stepped closer again and Brittany gasped, eyes wide as their bodies touched properly for the very first time, "they can be wild and unruly and completely impossible to work with."

Brittany swallowed and stepped away to stand at the window. Her Mistress followed, "and what do you do when their like that?" She asked.

Santana's hips pushed up hard against her backside and an involuntarily moan escaped the blonde's mouth. Her body was pulsating unnaturally against the unusual creature that rested behind her. She didn't know why her Mistress was doing this or whether she intended it to feel so suggestive but some part of her enjoyed it nonetheless.

"That's easy," the Latina's other hand locked around her stomach and they were forced to become even closer, "I _tame_ them. I break them until they submit."

"Break them?" Brittany stammered. Santana rocked forward, her heated centre brushing into Brittany. They were both making such wonderful sounds, whimpering and gasping as Santana thrust up and Brittany pushed down, trying to create some sort of regularity between each other.

"Yes," Santana's voice was hot and lush, "I make them so they..._oh_...answer to my every whim. My every desire."

Brittany didn't really know what to do. A part of her knew this was wrong and was uncomfortable in the situation but another part of her relished in it and loved the heated roughness between them. She hissed her pleasure, wanting more of Santana, not understanding any of it but never wanting to stop because it felt _so_ good.

A creaking on the other side of the stable alerted both women's attention. Jumping apart immediately, they busied themselves, trying to appear as though they hadn't almost been caught dry humping amongst the hay.

"Mistress," a voice called.

Brittany looked up from her place by the window where she'd pretended to be arranging the brushes to find Tina standing in the doorway anxiously. A voice in the back of her mind was crying out for more attention. Her legs felt as if they would fall from under her at any second and there was an aching between her thighs that simply wouldn't go away, even as she shifted from one foot to the other to try and placate it.

"Mr Puckerman just called," she heard Tina say.

"Did he say what he wanted specifically?" Santana strutted into view. She was breathless. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were hard. Her voice had changed too. She sounded coarse and bitter. She was clearly not impressed about being disturbed.

"No miss," Tina bowed, "only that he wants you to get back to him immediately."

Santana sighed. She wiped her hands against her clothes, avoiding eye contact with Brittany indefinitely.

"Very well," she said abruptly, "continue with your work, and _child_," she turned and pointed at accusing finger in Brittany's direction, "find something to do or I'll find something for you!"

The blonde bowed, bewildered that her Mistress had once again become so cold and cruel. She watched Santana as she shoved Tina aside, not even sparing them a backwards glance as she stormed away.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She felt as though she could think straight again now that Santana was gone. What had she been doing? _What was she even thinking?_ The way she had acted, the way she had just yielded to her Mistress and what she had wanted was wrong. They'd been getting up to no good. They'd been grinding and pleasing one another. Why? Brittany hated her! This was the woman who'd lashed her, who'd always treated her so ruthlessly and yet Brittany had wanted her touch, _needed_ it. She'd responded to Santana, making noises of approval and clinging to the window as they'd writhed in ways so as to seek sexual pleasure.

"Brittany...Brittany, listen to me," Tina was on her arm, shaking her free of her reverie, "she didn't hurt you did she? Oh Brittany, you're shaking."

"I'm fine," the blonde muttered, her gaze still fixed on her Mistress's retreating figure," just fine." It was a lie indeed. Brittany felt wrong in all the right places and all she could think as she allowed herself to be pulled into a motherly hug was that this could never happen again.

...GLEE.

Santana slammed the library doors open and barked an order at Quinn and Blaine, who were cleaning the bookcases, to leave. She made her way over to the house phone that rested by the window and sitting at her desk, pulled the contraption towards her and began to dial the number for one, Noah Puckerman.

It was too easy for her mind to wander while she waited for someone to pick up. She thought of Brittany immediately and what had occurred between them earlier. Santana didn't really know what had come over her. The way the blonde had accepted her advances, pushing into her and gasping, wanting it just as much had spurned a passion in her that could not be eased. Now, alone in her library, she wanted Brittany. She imagined those nimble hands, those pretty pink lips, that body and her mind went spare with abandon.

"Hi, this is Puck, the world's greatest fu –"

"Shut up," Santana laughed, "before you embarrass yourself."

Noah Puckerman a.k.a Puck, was an interesting human being and a typical, pathetic excuse for a man. Santana had known him all her life. He was her best friend, wealthy, handsome and a complete and utter whore. He specialised in all things illegal. He could whip up false passports and ID's in an instant. He could hunt down an undetectable person and dig up all their dirt without even having to really try. He was a dark soul and that was why Santana liked him.

"So how's my favourite lesbian doing? It's been ages since we last talked," Puck queried. Although Santana had shared her body with many men, she was first and foremost interested in women.

"I'm not bad. Frustrated more than anything," she thought of Brittany and had to clench her thighs together, "this fucking house is suffocating."

"You're never happy are you? Your home is the envy of every person in _Mérida _and yet you find no joy in it." Puck tutted disapprovingly.

"Why are you bitching at me?" Santana growled. She reached across her desk and played idly with the antique metronome that rested just under the window. She watched as it ticked, swinging back and forth robotically, "you're home is just as good as mine. Better in fact."

Puck laughed, "hardly. Which brings us back full circle to the reason for my calling?"

"What do you want asshole?" Santana rolled her eyes, smiling.

"I'm thinking about visiting you for a day or two. If that's alright?" He queried.

Santana tapped the metronome again and it picked up pace, "of course. When are you thinking of coming?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow?" Santana was surprised, "well that doesn't give me much time to prepare?"

"Just fill the house with wine and women and I'll be a very happy man," Puck teased, "and if you just so happen to open your bed to me too I'll be even happier."

Santana snorted, "when are you gonna get it into your head that I'm not gonna sleep with you?"

"Never. I'll always be hopeful," he chuckled.

"Then you'll always be waiting. Get rid of your penis and we might consider things," she murmured flirtatiously.

Puck grumbled in indignation and quickly changed the subject back to the matter at hand.

"So tomorrow?"

"Sure," Santana said, "I'll get the servants to set up your room and I'll order in a special meal for the night. How's that sound?"

"Perfect," Puck answered.

"Good. I'll see you then," Santana said, pleased, "listen, I've got to go. Work to do."

"Alright. I'm gonna be busy myself anyway," Puck replied, "I'll be at _El Palacio_ around about 5:00pm tomorrow afternoon."

"No problem at all. _Adios_."

"_Adios_."

Setting the phone down, Santana pulled herself up from her desk and made her way across the library. Opening the door, she called out and waited for someone to come to her. A few seconds passed and Tina arrived.

"Inform the others that Mr Puckerman will be staying for a few days. I want the master guest bedroom cleaned from top to bottom and arranged to his liking," she said bluntly.

"Yes Miss." Tina nodded.

"And the library is off bounds as of now. I'm tired and I have work to do. Anyone steps foot over this threshold and I'll smack them to the floor. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress Santana," Tina replied, bowing reverentially.

She turned to walk away when the Latina called out to her again. She saw the fear in her eyes as she faced her and though it was amusing indeed, the Asian woman had nothing to worry about, providing she gave the right answer.

"Where's Brittany?" She asked.

"In the servant's quarters having lunch, "Tina said.

"And did she seem well to you? In good spirits?"

"She was a little shaken up in the stable Mistress but other than that she was fine," she replied, looking down at her shoes.

"Hmm," the brunette nodded satisfied and waving with her hand, she said, "that'll be all then. Just tell Quinn to keep an eye on her."

"Yes Miss."

"And remember, no disruptions," Santana ordered and with that, she slammed the door shut in her servants face.

The room was suddenly quiet. Too quiet. It wasn't what she'd really wanted despite the fact that she'd _demanded_ her alone time. Strolling over to her favourite armchair, the Latina sat, breathing in the tremendous heat of the fireplace. Once again, in privacy, Santana's mind wandered back to that insatiable blonde that had turned her world completely upside down in the last week. Brittany was a big problem that she didn't need but a big problem that she _wanted_. The way they'd moved together earlier had been hypnotic. Santana had tried to reason that what they'd done was innocent, nothing at all but that was a lie. Santana had wanted to possess her. She'd wanted every inch of her and not in the sense of virtue either. Closing her eyes miserably, she tried to push her desires aside. No. She wouldn't feel this. Not for a worthless piece of nothing. A slave.

She had to get rid of this ache now, before it was too late. If she could draw it out of herself she might stand a fighting chance of not jumping on the child the next time she was within reach.

Humming in displeasure, the irritated Latina slid her clenched hand down her stomach and under the waistband of her leggings. She allowed her fingers the honour of dipping beneath her underwear, immediately seeking out her womanhood to delve between her slick arousal. It was easy to forget her anger like this. She barely registered the world around her as she focused on pleasuring herself, driving her fingers deeper and deeper inside of her core until she was panting heavily.

Satisfaction. It was almost there, right within her reach. Santana clawed for it, trying to hit that spot that would bring her peace. She could feel it tugging at her stomach, the pain that she needed to overcome. Thrusting up, the brunette squeaked. She imagined that the fingers that touched her were not her own. She imagined someone tall and soft and _blonde_. She thought of those eyes, gazing into her own, deep with encouragement and need. She felt a body that wasn't there...hard and teasing.

With one more rough thrust, Santana burst with an uncontrolled heightened climax. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she arched her back, crying out, before slumping down in her chair with exhaustion and fulfilment.

One word escaped her lips as she allowed herself to come _completely_ undone... "_Brittany_..."

**So it might have seemed too soon to give their Brittana their first sexual encounter with one another but I figured it needed to be done to move the story on a little more. Let me know what you thought. Too soon? Just right? What did you think? :) Review. **


	7. Flashback Part 1

**Hey everyone. So I know the updates have been absolutely terrible lately and for that I'm really, really sorry. I hope you're all still reading this story as there is so much more to come in both drama and romance.**

**I'm sorry to admit that, from now on the updates might be a little spaced out. ****I'm starting university in the middle of September and settling in will be a difficult matter. If you can all be patient with me I'd be very grateful. I won't be neglecting the story or I won't stop writing but you must try and understand that I do have a life outside of fan fiction and I need to get on with it. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU.**

**Disclaimer: Every gleek dreams of owning the rights to Glee. Imagine the possibilities. **

**Chapter 6 – Flashback – Part 1**

Hunger led Brittany to the kitchens that warm and early morning. The day of work had already begun at least an hour ago but having unfortunately missed breakfast, Brittany found that she couldn't ignore the rumbles and grumbles of her stomach and so believed that the best thing to do at that precise moment in time was eat.

No one had really noticed her as she slipped away from her chores for the servants were all too overcome with excitement that a young man would be joining them for the next couple of days. Brittany had no idea who Mr Puckerman was but he was surely important as the other servants had yet to stop talking about him since Tina had announced last night that he would be joining them later today. It wasn't that the blonde didn't want to get involved in the hype of the gentleman's arrival but her thoughts weren't truly in the matter. She was too busy considering what had happened yesterday afternoon with her Mistress in the stables.

Brittany knew she would never be able to get over what had gone on between herself and Santana but she would certainly deny it if someone ever dared to bring it up. Of course, why would _anyone _know? Santana would hardly be spreading the word. She was the Mistress of the house. She needed to in-still respect in her servants, not convey the notion that she was messing with one of them.

Brittany didn't quite know how to read Santana most of the time. There were days in which the woman would look at her with such contempt that Brittany felt shame for even _breathing_. Then something would change in the air and her Mistress would be this soft, almost agreeable human being and Brittany would feel a little better about herself again. It was a confusing business, something the young blonde loathed to concern herself with but something she could not, inevitably escape from. She only hoped that eventually, her Mistress would leave her alone. She didn't need this. She didn't need any of it.

Brittany pushed all thoughts aside as the kitchen door came into her line of vision. Her hunger increased violently and so pushing it open, she wandered inside and immediately sought out the cupboards, looking for things to quickly devour so she could return to her work without being missed. She found half a packet of biscuits and helped herself to a few, hardly pausing to chew at all, merely swallowing at a remarkable pace.

Perching herself on the edge of a stool, Brittany allowed her thoughts to drift back to Mr Puckerman. Was he the Mistress's lover? The manor house certainly knew him. It was a strange notion to take in that Santana could ever find it in her heart to share her body with someone. It made Brittany feel bitter more than anything else. What they had done yesterday had been erotic and good yet it made her feel like a plaything. What if Santana were using her as an amusement? What if she were just a toy of sorts until one of Santana's many lovers came on the scene? The very thought made Brittany's stomach bubble with sickness.

Sighing, the troubled blonde reached into the biscuit packet again, her fingers feeling for the very bottom, searching for those evasive little treats. Lifting the packet up with her other hand, she frowned and peered inside, blinking in confusion to see that there were no more biscuits left at all, not even one. Had she eaten them all? Wow. She must've been _really_ hungry.

Accepting that perhaps it was time to go back to work, Brittany hopped off her stool, scrunched up the empty packet in her fist and took it over to the small metal bin in the corner. Lifting the lid, she threw the wrapper inside and made to step back when something strange and familiar came over her. An image flashed up in front of her eyes, one that she knew very well without knowing at all...

_...there was a figure standing over her, blurred all over so she couldn't make out even one miniscule detail...there was a voice speaking...firm and stern..._

"_Brittany Susan Pierce," it was a man. The _same_ man, in fact, who had been in her dream the other night, "I told you. No cookies before dinner!"_

_Then...another voice...soft...apologetic...childlike..._

"_Sorry Daddy." _

_..._the vision broke and dispersed and Brittany staggered back, clutching her chest and wondering what had just happened. With wide eyes, she gazed around the open room, discovering in confusion that she was still in the kitchen, quite alone.

What was that? That voice...full of authority yet beautiful. She loved that voice. Her body responded to it. She knew it like it had always been instilled in her.

Finally catching her breath, Brittany shuffled away from the bin, too scared to go near again in case it brought along another funny turn. She felt ill. Her palms were clammy and her heart was pounding like a big bass drum. What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to be here. She belonged wherever that man was.

_Daddy_

Her father. That man was her father. The thought filled her with excitement and horror. Where was he? Why wasn't he with her? _Daddy._

_I have to find him_, Brittany thought desperately. _I need to see him. I want to hold him. He's my father. _

Body still shaking brutally, the youngster darted out of the kitchen, shoving past Kurt who was carrying a large, wooden box in his small, slender arms.

"Watch it Britt," he yelled, scowling, "where are you going? Hey, come back."

Brittany wanted to listen but she couldn't. There was a voice somewhere in the depths of her head demanding her to flee and to keep running no matter who beckoned her back. She had to leave this place. She had to get out. She didn't belong here.

...GLEE.

Groaning in frustration, Santana set down the new contract for the _Highland Diamond Company_ and sank back in her plush luxury armchair with a sigh of complete and utter defeat. It had already been a trying day, despite the fact that it was still morning. The Latina was more than ready to give up and hide in the calm confines of her precious library for she felt as though she already couldn't cope with the pressures of yet another demand of money.

Life had been hard ever since she had taken over the Lopez estate and its numerous businesses. She dealt in many different types of companies ranging from book publishing to antique furniture. She also dabbled in illegal trade though what shifty business _that_ entailed, no one knew for Santana was particularly secretive in such matters. Often the poor Lopez woman would be bombarded with phone calls and contracts from partners and firms which led to an extreme amount of stress and dissatisfaction. This triggered her aggression with the servants and her inability to smile unless it was forced. It was a difficult existence and a lonely one.

"Mistress? Are you alright?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Santana looked up, blinking all tiredness out of her eyes. Artie was sitting opposite her in his wheelchair, concern etched into his features as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

Sighing, the Latina spoke quietly.

"What do you want?"

"Mr Puckerman called," Artie said, "he'll be here around about 4:00pm."

"Fine," Santana replied with a nod, "has the delivery for tonight's dinner arrived?"

"Yes. Kurt's taken it up to the kitchen. The finest lamb in all of _Merida_," Artie told her, bowing his head.

A haze of satisfaction overcame Santana. At least _one thing_ had gone right today.

"And what of its preparation?" She asked.

"Tina will prepare the meal. She's more than capable."

"Very good. Tell the others that I want everyone outside when Puck arrives," reaching for the remote control on the table beside her, Santana switched on the television, already bored with the discussion at hand, "you must all be groomed to perfection and wearing your best work clothes."

"Yes Mistress," Artie answered and with a dutiful bow, he left the room quietly, followed by the gentle squeaking of his wheelchair.

Sighing, feeling weary, Santana tried to focus her attention on what was happening on the television screen. She recognised it to be some sort of old Spanish soap opera that her mother, God rest her soul, liked to watch when she were younger. Santana didn't know any of the characters and she didn't understand the storyline but the notion that she were sharing in something that her mother enjoyed filled her with a little warmth.

After a few minutes of watching in silence, Santana's empty thoughts began to stray beyond that of the show. She used the remote to lower the sound on the television and allowed her mind to take complete control as her thoughts drifted here and there, reaching for anything to keep her occupied.

Puck was coming this evening. The notion left the Latina bubbling with excitement. It would be so good to have a positive face within the house again. Many of Santana's guests were just as sombre as she but Puck was full of life and whenever he visited he would bring about a lightness in her that no one else could draw out.

_Except Brittany. _

Stirring uncomfortably, Santana frowned at her own abrupt thoughts? What did the child have to do with any of this? She wasn't nearly as important as Puck was. She was a worthless piece of nothing. Why should the Latina think even a _little_ of her?

Of course, Santana _did_ think of Brittany. Last night had been consumed with restlessness. She lay engulfed with dreams of the young servant and her pretty scent and lovely blue eyes. Santana had wanted nothing more than to slip out of her bed and go to Brittany. She wanted to creep into her room, wake her from her sleep and ravage her until they were both sated and breathless. She almost did once or twice but something like sense woke in her every time she moved and eventually, she would roll over into her pillows, close her eyes tight and try and forget the beauty and innocence that weaved the perfection of her favourite servant girl.

What was she going to tell Puck? Brittany believed that she had been working here for years and yet Puck, having known Santana since they were children, would obviously recognise a new addition to the staff. How could she get around that? She couldn't convince him that Brittany had been there all along? He wasn't _that_ stupid. If he remarked on the youngster and her newness when Brittany was present it would send the Latina's plans into chaos. Brittany couldn't know that this had never been her life. She just couldn't. She would leave and never come back. She'd search for her family. Brittany would be gone. She'd leave her.

No.

Santana would not give her up. _Brittany was hers._

Standing and stretching, Santana used the remote to switch off the television. She left the living room with a heavy sigh, ignoring Sam and Finn who bowed to her as they made their way to the next sentry point at the far end of _El Palacio._ She was still thinking of how best to keep Puck from spilling her dark secret to the one person she could not afford to lose. Perhaps...perhaps she could tell him the truth. Puck would understand. Santana could make him see clearly. If she just explained using the right frame of words then she could prove successful in her endeavours. There'd be no need for anything other than understanding.

Yes.

She knew what she had to do. Santana would explain that Brittany's life was in danger. She'd tell Puck the truth. He'd understand. Of course he would.

_Brittany was hers._

...GLEE.

Brittany was distraught.

There was no way out of _El Palacio_. Sam and Finn were guarding the great towering gates in the garden and the walls that made up the outskirts were too high to clamber over. How could she slip away without being seen?

Glancing here and there, the anxious blonde turned her interest to the trees on the far right. They were big and branchy and reached up taller than the wall itself. If she could climb one without drawing too much attention to herself she might stand a chance.

Wandering in that direction slowly, her body restless for freedom, Brittany slipped beneath the dark canopy of leaves and began to search for the perfect tree. It needed to have lots of thick branches and boughs and a soft cushion of grass around it in case she fell.

Fear coursed through the young servant. Brittany knew if she were caught she'd be punished severely. She thought of the night her Mistress had struck her with the belt and whimpered nervously. She didn't want that. It had been the most degrading and painful experience of her life. Then again, she thought of her father's voice – the man she couldn't remember – and was encouraged to go on and do as she pleased. She'd been torn away from him for four years. It made her wonder how she had ever spent such time living contently. Surely she hadn't been happy. Her father and other family members (who were the other people in the fog dream? Siblings? Cousins?) were all out there somewhere, most likely searching for her. She had to find them. Brittany knew she could only be happy if she were with them.

An enormous tree set right up against the walls fine exterior caught Brittany's attention, swaying her thoughts to a mere murmur at the back of her mind. Stepping closer, she sought to inspect the giant, examining its thick branches and spongy undergrowth.

Satisfied that it was the perfect specimen to use as a climbing apparatus, Brittany rolled up the sleeves of her dress and took a hold of the first branch. She looked furtively over her shoulder for the last time, expecting to find someone watching her, waiting for her to make her first move. When she was absolutely positive she was alone, she hoisted herself up with a groan and began the climb that would lead her away from _El Palacio_.

...GLEE.

An easy calm came over Santana as she sat within the loving warmth of her dark solitary library. She was settled in her favourite armchair by the fireplace, her nose buried in a book, completely immersed in its world of Fairy Queens and monstrous beasts of terror. From the moment Santana could talk, she could also read. Books were something she'd always been emotionally attached to and nothing gave her greater pleasure than to lose herself between the pages of a novel. If she had it her way, she would _never_ emerge. She'd stay within the pages for an eternity.

Santana's concentration was broken at the sound of someone knocking hesitantly on the door. Removing her reading glasses, the Latina set her book aside and called out to whoever was there.

The door creaked open slowly and in walked Quinn, looking very nervous indeed. Bowing respectfully, the young servant stood before her Mistress, anxiously wringing her hands together.

"Ah Quinn," Santana was surprised to see the woman for Quinn rarely visited and had been quiet through _most_ of her life here at _El Palacio_, "what can I do for you?"

"I've just spoken to Artie," Quinn said.

"Oh. Interesting," the Latina replied sarcastically, not having the foggiest of clues where this was going.

"Mistress," Quinn shuffled restlessly from leg to leg, "he said you expect us all to be outside when Noah arrives." She paused as though to let Santana take in what she'd just said. Then, hardly able to contain herself, burst out with, "I can't be there. I can't see him."

Realisation dawned in Santana's head. Oh. That. Quinn must've seen the understanding fleet across her face for a second later she was on her knees, pleading desperately.

"Let me stay in the house. Please."

"Don't be silly Quinn," Santana snorted, "you are part of my household staff. You have to attend."

"I can't," Quinn whimpered, shaking her head, "if I see him...even for just a second...I might...I think I'll..._please_," her voice was unbearably soft, "I hate him."

Santana could hardly afford to be lenient with the servant. Quinn's hatred for Puck had spiralled out of her own choices in life and it wasn't Santana's fault that nothing more than coldness had grown over the years of their knowing each other.

"You'll attend," she said bluntly and with a sniff of disdain, she reached for her book again only to be stopped by Quinn gripping her hand urgently.

"I'm begging you Mistress," she said, her eyes brimming with tears, "I'll never ask for anything again. You know that Noah –"

"It's Mr Puckerman to you," Santana growled, wrenching her hand away, "and you'll acknowledge him that way. I don't care for your whining. If you had been smart enough to keep your legs –"

"Don't Miss Santana," Quinn cried, cutting her off, "you know it wasn't like that."

"I know very little of what happened all those years ago," Santana said dismissively. She could see the pain in her servant's eyes but chose to ignore it. She hadn't earned her heartless reputation for being soft and understanding. "All I know is I was left picking up the pieces when everything crumbled. It was _your_ mistake. _I_ fixed it. Now _get_ out. I've had enough."

Quinn looked as if she were about to argue but one dark look from her Mistress killed all impulses. Santana watched from the corner of her eye as the young woman got to her feet and made her way across the room, defeated.

"Quinn," she called and she saw the blonde stop, waiting for her to speak, "I'll see you outside at 4:00pm for Mr Puckerman's arrival."

"Yes Mistress."

...GLEE.

Relief washed over Brittany as she dropped over the other side of the wall. The cool air of the day licked at her skin, soft and tinkering as it whirled through her hair and around over her shoulders. She couldn't be sure what time it was but she guessed it was around about 2:00pm. She had no idea as to where she could go from here (her plan had extended only to the wall itself) but she knew she had to move fast if she wanted to leave the world of _El Palacio_ behind for good.

Just ahead of her, across a large dusty road that led downwards, was a forest of sorts. Brittany knew it was best to start her journey down the hill from there. The trees and shrubbery would hide her from any vehicles that drove along the road and she would be harder to see amongst the shadows.

Looking back and forth along the dusty path Brittany gathered up all her courage and darted across to the forest, slipping between the trees swiftly and disappearing in an instant.

**It was only 8 pages long but remember that this is one of 2 parts. I'm already writing the second part now and it should be finished in a day or two. I hope you're all still reading. :) Review. **


	8. Flashback Part 2

**Hey guys. So I updated this super quick because I could see how impatient you all were in the reviews. I will continue to warn you however that updates will be sparse and you'll have to be patient with me. I hope you enjoy what's to come. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU.**

**Disclaimer: Every gleek dreams of owning the rights to Glee. Imagine the possibilities. **

**Chapter 7 – Flashback – Part 2**

Santana turned to admire herself in the mirror, smirking arrogantly as she took in her body framed perfectly by the brand new designer suit she had bought specifically for Puck's coming. With its fine colour of cream, smooth silky material and 18 carat gold buttons, she _knew_ she was absolutely beautiful and no woman in _Mérida_ could surpass her.

"How do I look?" She asked Mercedes and Tina, who were standing behind her, waiting for an order.

"Gorgeous," Mercedes said.

"Yes, absolutely wonderful," Tina agreed, nodding.

"Hmm," Santana sighed, knowing the answers before they'd even uttered them. Of course they would tell her she looked good. Any other reply would've earned them a vicious glare and a possible punishment, "what's the time now?"

"3:50pm Mistress," Tina told her.

"Really?" Santana chuckled, surprised, "the day has just flown by. Pass me my pearl earrings and then head outside. I'm sure the others are waiting already."

Mercedes made her way over to the vanity cupboard that held all of Santana's most prized and expensive jewellery. She opened the first draw, pulled out a small case and brought it over to her Mistress, her eyes lowered passively.

"Thank you," Santana said curtly. She watched the women leave from the mirror, bowing as they went, and turned her attention to arranging her hair and fastening the earrings in place. When she was finished she stood and glanced over her shoulder to look herself over one more time before leaving the room too, following Mercedes and Tina's footsteps to go and wait outside for Puck.

...GLEE.

The bright red Ferrari that belonged to Puck was already pulled up in the front drive of _El Palacio_ when Santana stepped outside. The servants, at the sight of their Mistress, all straightened up and watched her descend the steps. She paid no mind to them in the least and upon reaching level ground, moved to her waiting guest at once.

"Well hello beautiful," Puck chuckled, slipping his arms around Santana's waist to pull her into a warm embrace.

"Hello yourself," Santana said, taking in his musky scent, "though I must admit I'm not about to call you beautiful or anything."

Puck pulled back, smiling, "you can always compliment me in other ways. Unbelievably handsome? Talented beyond compare. Sex God. Take your pick."

Santana snorted, "how about vain?"

"Works for me," Puck shrugged. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and gestured forward, "lead the way Miss Lopez."

Santana did as she was asked: the first of a few singular encounters when she had obeyed anyone. It was strange how easy it was to exist now that Puck was here. She felt as though she could breathe again. Looking up, the Latina smiled. She knew she could never truly be attracted to a man yet if there were anyone she could spend the remainder of her miserable life with, it would be Puck. He was handsome with a wicked sense of humour and a rare kindness that was hidden behind his badass exterior. Puck was the closest to a man she could ever come to loving. They understood each other. It was as simple as that.

"You remember my household staff," Santana said, motioning to their company who were all still lined up, watching their affectionate exchange.

"Sure," Puck turned to face the servants with a nod, "it's good to see you all again." Santana noted that his eyes were trained on Quinn who appeared to be having a staring contest with the ground.

"Don't mind them," the brunette took hold of her friends arm again, leading him to the steps, "most of them are – wait," she stopped, frowning, and turned, her line of sight trained upon her servants.

"What's wrong?" Puck chuckled, sounding confused.

"Something's not right," Santana said, "what's out of place here?"

She walked from the top of the line, counting each person as she passed them.

"Rachel, Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, Artie, Blaine and Kurt," she murmured, "minus Sam and Finn who are on guard duty. Hmm...who's missing? Rachel, Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, Artie, Blaine and Kurt." The Mistress squinted as if this would help her see what wasn't there. Something felt really wrong. In the back of Santana's mind was an alarm bell and the way it was screaming and ringing spoke of the seriousness of the situation.

"What is it?" Puck came to stand behind her, still bewildered by her strange behaviour.

"Shush," Santana waved his comment away, "I'm trying to think." She looked up and down the group again, counting them over and over until her head hurt. Then, something broke to the surface – something with blue eyes and long blonde hair and Santana couldn't contain her surprise or panic, "wait...where's Brittany?"

"Brittany? Who's Brittany?" Puck queried.

"That doesn't matter right now," Santana replied, shaking her head. She turned to Quinn, "where is she?"

"I...I don't know Mistress," she answered, still not lifting her gaze from the ground, "I haven't seen her all day."

"What about you Artie? Didn't you inform her that everyone was meant to be out here for Mr Puckerman's arrival?"

Artie shrunk back in his chair, "I spread the word but I haven't seen Brittany today either. I figured one of the others had told her."

"Has _anyone_ seen her?" Santana demanded.

There was a chorus of "no's" and apologies but not one response that someone had actually made contact with the blonde at all that day.

"Oh wait Miss," Kurt stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I...I did actually see Brittany this morning."

"Where?" Santana asked.

"She was coming out of the kitchen," he replied, "well...actually, she was sprinting out of the kitchen."

"Did she say where she was going?"

Kurt shook his head, "but she looked distressed."

Gripping firmly onto her servant's shirt, Santana yanked him off his feet, thrusting their bodies up close so they were standing nose to nose. She could feel Kurt trembling against her, terrified.

"Why didn't you inform me of this before?" She growled.

"I...I didn't think...I'm sorry Mistress," he wheezed.

"I should hope so," Santana released him and he staggered back into Blaine's arms. Turning to the others, the Latina began to speak, loud and clear, "search every inch of this house. I want Brittany brought to me before nightfall. There'll be severe consequences for all of you if she's not found."

The servants didn't need to be told twice. They scattered immediately, searching frenziedly for the one amongst them that was missing. Santana watched them go, aware of the aching in her stomach and the sense of foreboding in the back of her head. This wasn't good. Brittany needed to be found.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me on the phone last night?" Puck asked, looking and sounding just as mystified as he had been five minutes ago.

Sighing, Santana rolled her eyes, "it's a long story."

"Well, start talking now and we might just get through it by the time they find this mysterious Brittany," Puck encouraged, taking her by the arm and leading her inside.

...GLEE.

Darkness was beginning to descend over _Mérida, _rushing through the valley and bringing with it a sinister gust of wind and a dark gathering of rainclouds that would send even the bravest of souls into the nearest available shelter.

Brittany had lost all sense of direction in her plan of escape _and_ all hope of ever finding the family she kept subconsciously thinking about. She was still trudging along in the forest, her shoes soaked through and her legs caked in mud. The trees around her were beginning to resemble great hulking figures. Everywhere Brittany seemed to turn was another menacing shadow and the further she walked the more the cold rose to her calves, through her body and up into her terrified heart.

Four years she had spent living without her family life. It made Brittany pause to think of how she had wound up being captured and sold in a slave auction in the first place. Maybe when she found her family again she'd be able to make sense of what had happened. All Brittany wanted was to leave this _terrible_ place behind and find some sort of solace.

A sound much like a twig snapping beneath the weight of someone's foot alerted Brittany's super-aware senses. Looking over her shoulder, she thought she spied a figure standing amongst the shadows of the trees. The blonde reacted like any lonely and scared young soul would. She bolted and didn't look back.

...GLEE.

"Holy shit," Puck laughed in amusement as Santana finished relaying the story of how she had come by the opportunity to own Brittany in the first place. They were sitting in the library together, awaiting news of the missing servant's whereabouts, "and you just found her in the middle of the road?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded, sipping her coffee, "and after Schuester reassured me that she didn't have any diseases or signs of irregular insanity I decided to keep her. Without my kindness the girl would've most definitely be recaptured and killed."

"And that's how the lies started right?"

"Well I wouldn't call them lies," Santana shrugged, "their just necessities. It's how Brittany stays safe."

"Telling her that she's been working here for years is a lie. It's how Brittany stays with _you_," Puck's eyes glinted devilishly, "you like her huh?"

"What?" Santana stood, blushing and turned her back on her friend, wanting to disguise any surprise and recognition in her face, "why would you think that? She's my servant. A worthless piece of –"

"You like her," Puck cut over her and the brunette could hear the smile in his voice.

Reaching for one of her favourite books, Santana flipped through the pages, trying to behave in a nonchalant manner, trying to act as though Puck's words meant nothing when really, they shivered with truth.

"You're wrong," she said, shaking her head, "I _lust_ her. I don't _like_ her."

"Lust and like," Puck chuckled, "their on the same boundaries these days. So what are you going to –"

A frantic knocking at the door dispelled further conversation. Rachel and Quinn stepped into the room, bowing respectfully.

"Well?" Santana said, waiting impatiently, "where is she? Have you found her?"

Quinn once again kept her eyes to the floor and though Santana was beginning to tire of her inconsiderate behaviour she allowed it. The aching to know that Brittany was safe overpowered all her anger.

"We've sear...searched everywhere Mis...Mistress," Rachel stammered timorously, "we...we can't fi...find her anywhere."

Santana frowned, looking down at the open pages of her book in confusion. Her mind couldn't register what her servant had just said. Where was Brittany? Why hadn't she been found? Closing the book, the Latina set it aside on the cupboard in front of her and turned, eyeing Quinn and Rachel inquisitively. Rachel met her gaze with one of her own, fear riddled in her big brown eyes. Quinn still refused to look up.

"Are you sure you've looked absolutely everywhere?" She asked. What if she'd escaped and f she had, how could she have gotten out in the first place?

"We've torn the house apart Miss," Rachel answered.

Santana shook her head uneasily. Her body felt like it were turning to jelly from the inside out. Brittany couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible. She was her servant. She _belonged_ to Santana. Why should she want to leave?

...GLEE.

Brittany was lost.

There was a pain in her chest and it just kept building and building until there was nothing more than _that_ simple beating pain.

She was sure she could still hear the racing footsteps behind her. Quick. Pulsating. Clever.

Night had well and truly fallen. There was no light. There was no warmth. There was only this radiating aching in her chest and the pounding of the blood rushing through her body.

She didn't know where she was. Everything was a blur. The trees flashed by her, clawing at her dress, wanting to pull her back into the dark. All she could think was that she wasn't safe and no matter how fast she ran, she'd always be looking over her shoulder.

Where was her Mistress? Was she already looking? Someone had bound to discover that she was gone already and the Mistress would be enraged when she learnt of her escape.

The pain in her chest increased. The footsteps behind her quickened.

Brittany was lost.

...GLEE.

Every servant ran for cover when it finally dawned on Santana that Brittany was really gone. Her rampage through the corridors of _El Palacio_ was a horror to witness as she kicked aside suits of armour and smashed and trashed any delicate object within her reach. She only stopped when all the anger left her body and even then, she trembled anxiously and looked close enough to murder someone.

Ordering the servants to clean up the mess she had made, Santana decided there and then that she would have to go out in search of Brittany. With Sam, Puck and Finn sharing in the search they might just stand a chance.

Pulling her coat over her shoulders, she walked with Puck up the drive of the garden, wanting nothing more than to rid herself of this erratic pulsing in her heart. Her thoughts were alive with worry and anxiousness. All she could think was that she needed Brittany home. She'd find her. She swore it to herself. She'd bring her back and Brittany would _never_ leave again. She'd chain her up in her room if needs be.

"So what's the plan?" Puck asked as they reached the gates. Sam and Finn were waiting for them dutifully and at the sight of their Mistress, bowed and opened them to let them out.

"I want you and Finn to make your way up the hill," Santana answered, "and Sam and I will make our way down. Hopefully we'll stumble across something that will tell us where she is."

"Righto boss," Puck winked at her and with that, he turned to Finn, patted him on the back and motioned forward, "lead the way."

...GLEE.

The forest was infinite and inescapable. Brittany had lost all track of time and all sense of hope. Her legs now burned beyond compare and every breath that she inhaled and exhaled came out in short little pants. Sweat poured down her face. Her eyes were wide and searching but she could see nothing in front of her. She kept stumbling over the roots of trees and the mud seemed to anchor her down to the ground as though it had some sort of life of its own.

Maybe it was because all the strength had left her body but one second Brittany was pushing past a great thicket and the next, she was on the floor, her face pressed into the bark of the tree in front and her hands wedged into the ground. She hissed in agony, shaking, and tried to pull herself up but it was damn near impossible. She was just too weak.

Whimpering, Brittany began to crawl on her hands and knees, turning her body to angle her way out of the forest. Maybe walking along the path would've been a better idea. As she crawled, her jumbled thoughts took over, masking the pain that coursed up her body. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat and go back to _El Palacio_. The Mistress might still be unaware that she was missing. Then again, how could she get back in? The walls around the house and garden were too large and there were no trees to support her over them this time. She couldn't just go through the gates, that would be stupid. Oh no. What was she going to do? She wanted to go back.

When Brittany had planned escape she hadn't really thought of the bigger picture. She didn't know _Mérida _at all and would easily find herself lost in mere seconds of entering. She had no money either. She really should've taken a little from Quinn's box on the window before she left. She doubted Quinn would mind. Then, what would she do if she had been lucky enough to get away? She didn't know where her family was. They could be over the other side of the world. She didn't know. All in all, Brittany simply felt like she was in danger. There was no one here to keep her safe. She was alone and she didn't like it.

...GLEE.

Santana and Sam walked side by side in an awkward silence with only the sound of their footsteps echoing over the dusty path. Their eyes seemed to be moving everywhere, to the trees that towered above and the darkness ahead of them, that not even the torch that Sam was holding, could appear any less intimidating.

The anger that sat within Santana's stomach was gone and in its place was this ever-growing fear that Brittany would never be found. Sam looked just as she felt. His face had taken on an ashen colour and he kept licking his bottom lip, a nervous habit of sorts.

Turning her gaze to the forest, Santana pointed and cleared her throat, wanting to somehow break the silence.

"Do you think she may have wandered in there?"

Sam pointed the torch in the same direction, "I doubt it Mistress. It's too deep and dark and Brittany probably scares easy."

"But if she wanted cover," Santana replied, "she might."

"Perhaps it's best if we just stay on the path for now," Sam said, "if we end –"

"Are you trying to take charge Sam?" Santana rounded on him, a short little bundle of rage.

"No Miss," the guard said, staggering back, "I just think we should stay out in the open."

"Well I don't _pay_ you to _think_ do I?" She jabbed him in the chest.

Sam shook his head and bowed, looking nervous. "Forgive me. I'm only trying to think of Brittany. I care about her greatly and I don't want her to come to any harm."

Santana pulled back at the way Sam's voice framed the words. The way he spoke Brittany's name made her heart clench. It was so soft...so worshipping and she didn't like it one bit.

"Mistress," Sam said. He looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously, "I've been meaning to talk to you about Brittany. I would –"

Santana held up her hand, stopping him. She knew what Sam was going to say before he even said it but she didn't want to hear those words escaping his lips. Brittany belonged to her.

"Another time Sam," she said dismissively, "let's just focus on bringing Brittany back right now."

Sam sighed but nodded, "yes Mistress."

...GLEE.

An hour had passed and Santana and Sam were still out looking. They'd made quite a journey down the hill towards the city and it hadn't been any less unpleasant for either of them. Santana had grown in frustration with the desire to catch even a glimpse of her favourite servant girl. Sam had learnt swiftly in their short time together to keep his mouth shut. Every time he spoke he was answered with the Latina's sharp tongue and vicious glare. He had no inkling that the reason behind his Mistress's anger was the very thing that made his own mind and heart ache with worry. In his eyes, he had no competition for Brittany's affection and the only thing that fed Santana's disagreeable disposition was her hatred of losing something that was hers. How very wrong he was.

"If she's run without a good explanation I swear to God I'll kill her," the brunette hissed under her breath, "I'll drag her back home by her hair."

Sam winced uncomfortably, "please take it easy on her Mistress. Brittany's new to this life. She doesn't understand like and the others and I do."

"I'll do what I want with her," Santana growled, "I'll make every servant watch her punishment. Brittany _will_ understand sooner or later that she's mine. No one else's. Mine." She intended Sam to know this too. Brittany would _never_ be his.

"Please Mistress," the guard muttered, "I'm sure Brittany didn't intend to cause much trouble."

Kicking a stone across the path, Santana sighed. "I'll allow her to explain herself but if I don't like what I hear I'll...I'll..." she became so enraged that she trailed off and couldn't finish what she was saying.

A strange garbled sound up ahead alerted the pair's attention. Sam was the first to move, darting off into the darkness. Santana didn't go immediately. She was too busy thinking up several good excuses as to why Brittany would want to flee in the first place.

"Mistress," she heard Sam call out frantically a few second later, "she's here!"

...GLEE.

Brittany was barely concious but she knew well enough that she was lying on the side of the road, limp and breathless.

She must've hit her head harder than she had first believed for now the only thing that registered in her being was this tremendous pounding around about her temples. Brittany longed for company. She'd changed her mind entirely. There was only one place she wanted to be right now and that was back in her bed in _El Palacio_.

Lifting her head, Brittany fancied she'd caught a flicker of light just beyond the path. A part of her hoped it was someone from the manor house, come to rescue her but another part of her was sorely afraid. Brittany knew she would be punished if she returned.

Whimpering, the blonde tried to move and pull herself up but found herself completely rooted to the ground. She couldn't hold in the cry of agony that slipped up her throat. There was a sharp pain in her hand and putting any weight on it only added to her anxiety that it might very well be sprained.

Brittany sunk back down into the mud, resigning herself to the notion that she would stay here all night. If she had any power at all she would drag herself up and onto the road but there was nothing. She was too tired for words.

Then...

"Brittany? Oh my God. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Here, let me look at you." Sam's voice was in her ear and his hands were on her back, soft and reassuring.

"I...I...where am I?" The youngster murmured helplessly. She tried to look up but could see very little. Her head felt too heavy to lift up.

"It doesn't matter," Sam whispered and then his voice projected to somewhere in the distance, "Mistress, she's here!"

Brittany immediately panicked with the knowledge that Miss Santana was nearby. A little strength rose in her stomach out of nowhere and suddenly, she was writhing on the floor in Sam's arm, trying desperately to get away.

"Hey, it's okay." Sam held onto her tight, making it impossible for her to escape.

"No," she heaved, "she's gonna hurt me. I can't go back Sam...not if she'll punish me. Let...me...go."

"Where is she?" Santana's voice broke through the night air, clear and strong.

"Right here," Sam answered, "though I think she's sick. She's talking crazy and I can't get her to keep still."

Brittany rolled onto her side and looked up weakly. She could make out her Mistress gazing down on her, a look of scorn written into her features. The youngster _hated_ this feeling. She was already ashamed of herself for having run in the first place. Now she was going to be punished and all because she thought she could find the people who haunted her dreams and danced in her thoughts.

"What's gotten into you?" Santana said, kneeling and drawing the blonde close into her arms.

Brittany stiffened, surprised. She didn't know what to say or do.

"Silly girl."

"Can you walk Brittany?" Sam asked, "do you want me to carry you?"

The blonde shrugged and slumped completely into Santana's arms. She could feel the trailing of the woman's fingers up and down the nape of her neck, slow and deliberate. Glancing up, she caught the way in which her Mistress and Sam were looking at one another – hard, as if warning each other away.

"Please..." Brittany sniffled miserably, wanting to stop them from glaring at one another, "can we...go...home?" If she asked perhaps she wouldn't be punished so severely.

Santana's arms tightened around her, possessive in a way that said she was coming back whether she liked it or not.

...GLEE.

Santana paced back and forth in the library, trembling with anger and unease. She'd called Doctor Schuester in when they returned to the manor house and now it seemed that everyone was waiting on his diagnosis of the situation. She hadn't had much time with Brittany as of yet. Rachel and Quinn had whisked the ditzy blonde off to her room the second they'd laid eyes on her and despite the fact that Santana had all rights to go barging into, she felt she simply couldn't.

"Stop moving around so much," Puck groaned, holding one hand over his head and cradling a glass of whiskey in the other, "you're giving me a headache."

"Why do you suppose it's taking so long?" She asked, biting her nails fretfully.

"She's in a bad way," Puck shrugged, "things like this will obviously take time."

"Yeah but she only had a few scratches here and there from what I could see," Santana grumbled.

"Unless there's something underneath the surface."

Perching herself on the edge of one of the armchairs, the Latina sighed impatiently. The sooner she got to see Brittany the better. She would demand an explanation. She would make her suffer.

_No one tries to leave El Palacio and expects to get away with it_, she thought. She wouldn't allow it.

"Seriously Santana," Puck said, "stop pacing. You're annoying me."

"Fine! I'll go and find Doctor Schuester and leave you in peace," she snarled, standing and storming across the room, "maybe while I'm gone you can get back to fucking my servants. Oh wait, _you_ did that already. Six years ago." She knew it was wrong to bring _that _up,as it was always a shifty subject but she couldn't help herself.

"San, don't say that," Puck called after her, "wait."

Ignoring her friend's calls, Santana strutted down the hallways, focused entirely on getting to Brittany's room. She shoved past Mercedes who was busy mopping the floor, hardly seeing the woman at all. It was as though a curtain of red heat had slipped down Santana's vision and not even the sight of one, Will Schuester (who was exiting Brittany's bedroom upon the Latina's arrival) could rectify it.

"Ah just the person I wanted to see," Will said, smiling warmly.

Coming to a halt, Santana breathed unevenly. "How is she?"

"A little shaken up but other than that she's well. She still needs a nice relaxing bath, and a good hot glass of milk before she goes to bed wouldn't go amiss either. It'll help her sleep." Will chuckled.

"Done," Santana nodded, "and did she say anything? About why she decided to run in the first place?"

"Nothing," Will replied, "but I'm sure if you ask she'll tell you."

"I doubt it," Santana said and she held out her hand to shake that of the Doctors, "but thanks anyway. I'm grateful you could come out on such short notice."

"It's no problem at all. It's very good of you to keep her here. I'm glad you decided what was for the best," Will said. He held up his briefcase with a smile, "now if you'll excuse me, I'll be off."

"Thanks again," Santana called and she watched Will stroll down the hallway, waiting for him to disappear around the corner before she turned back to the door in front of her, setting her hand on the handle and letting herself inside.

The room was dimly lit. That is what Santana noticed first of all. The windows were pulled open, letting in cool air and the quiet that breezed overhead was quite unbearable. Casting her gaze to the far end of the room, Santana felt some of her anger soften. Brittany was curled up on her bed, lying on a towel that was set beneath her to stop her from staining the furniture with her mud-caked body. Santana could see from the way she trembled and shook that she was crying but the Mistress knew there was little she could do to calm the girl. It was her duty now to make her see the error of her ways.

"Stand up Brittany," she said firmly.

The blonde flinched under her voice but did as she was told. She stood, her back turned to her Mistress, looking the very image of fear.

"Take off your clothes," Santana ordered.

Brittany turned, horrified, "wha...what?" She stuttered.

"I said take off your clothes," Santana hissed again, scowling, "are you deaf ?"

The blonde whimpered and hesitantly began to unbutton her muddy dress. She avoided her Mistress's eyes at any cost. Santana could see her shaking violently and knew that she was more than a little bit scared and though some part of her should've felt for the woman, she simply couldn't. The idea of demanding the youngster to strip and having her answer in obedience only served the Latina with a sense of true domination. She was the Mistress.

"Good," Santana nodded, satisfied and she left Brittany to undress whilst she wandered into the small adjoining bathroom. Approaching the bathtub set in the centre of the room; she placed the plug into its plughole and began to fill the tub with an ample amount of hot and cold water.

Pleased with her work, Santana went back into the bedroom to find Brittany still timidly unbuttoning her dress.

Enraged that she hadn't moved quick enough, the brunette stormed over to Brittany and snatched her up into her arms. The young woman whimpered and protested, trying to break away but it was impossible. Santana's hold was too strong. Ignoring how she cried, she gripped hold of Brittany's dress and tore at the material; ripping it from her body and discarding it limp upon the floor. Brittany collapsed back on the bed, her shoulders hunched, curled up into a ball.

"Why did you leave?" Santana asked.

"I...I...I don't know," Brittany stammered.

"Yes you do," Santana snarled. She launched herself at the half naked blonde, ignoring her terrified squeak as she straddled her, holding down her arms to stop her from struggling, "_tell_ me child or so help me I'll –"

"Please," Brittany whimpered, tears filling her eyes, "Mistress, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Tell me," Santana demanded, forcing her body down harder on Brittany, keeping her in place.

Sniffling, Brittany shook her head and said, in a miserable voice, "I keep having bad dreams and pictures in my head."

"What?" Santana pulled back, frowning.

"Sometimes all these strange pictures come into my head and they make me do stupid things," Brittany cried, "I'm sorry Mistress. There was a man in my head and he...he...he was my father...I know it."

Santana was bewildered and a little bit scared. She could see the truth in Brittany's eyes. It filled her with an aching depression. Did she know the truth? That she had never belonged to Santana? That she was someone else's?

Resentment gone, the brunette let her hand run down the curve of Brittany's figure, soft as anything. She brought her body forward and leant in to nuzzle their noses together, wanting to breathe in this lovely creature while she still could. A moment of silent deliberation passed before Brittany reached up, cupping Santana's cheek. She looked timid but she didn't stop or hesitate. Feeling defeated, Santana leant into Brittany's touch, sighing dejectedly.

"They're just flashbacks child," Santana finally said, pulling away, "just reminders of what your life was before."

Nodding, Brittany sniffled, "I understand that now."

"Do you?" Santana asked, "do you _really_ understand? I can't afford to have you running away every time one of these things comes over you."

"I will try," Brittany murmured.

"No," Santana said, shaking her head firmly, "I don't want you to try. I want you to _do_."

"But...it confuses me and I –"

Santana thrust her entire body weight forward again, anchoring Brittany in place. She must've hurt the servant for Brittany cried out, her face contorted.

"You won't leave again," she said darkly, "you're mine."

Brittany squeaked, nodding, "I won't leave."

"Say the other thing," Santana hissed, her eyes dancing.

Brittany timorously glanced up at their joined hands, swallowed and said nothing.

"Say it!" Santana barked, "now!"

"I'm...I'm yours."

"Louder."

"I'm yours," Brittany said, raising her voice.

Smiling, Santana nodded, "that's right child. Not your father's. Not Quinn's. _Definitely_ not Sam's. Mine!"

Brittany nodded meekly.

Lifting herself up, Santana shoved Brittany aside, feeling disgusted with herself. She paced back and forth the room, not wanting to look at the youngster's sleek body, clad in only her bra and underwear. In her mind she wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and have her wicked way with Brittany. The idea left the woman's body tingling with anticipation but she knew she had to control her desires. She didn't want Brittany to know how much of a powerful effect she had over her.

"Mistress?"

"What?"

"I really am sorry."

Santana glanced up, frowning, looking across at Brittany who was still curled up on the bed, "enough whining. I've run you a bath." She strolled over to the bedroom door, wanting – no, _needing_ to leave.

"Mistress?" Brittany ventured.

"Not now," Santana said, waving her comment away, "just bath. I'll check on you in the morning. Oh and Brittany?"

"Yes Mistress?" Brittany murmured.

"Try and leave again and I'll lock you in this room," she said resolutely, "and you'll stay here until the day you die. Am I clear?"

Brittany nodded, "yes Miss."

Offering the blonde one more look, Santana opened the door and let herself out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind her. Sighing, she sank back against the wall and breathed deeply, trying to contain her frustration. Brittany was perhaps just that little bit closer to working out the truth. She had to fabricate more lies if she intended to keep the girl. She had to go deeper and darker. She had to make Brittany believe that the servant had nothing to search for.

Santana pushed off the wall, her thoughts alive, and strolled down the hallway confidently. She would feed Brittany an unfixable lie tomorrow. The servant girl might come away with a broken heart in the process but Santana didn't care. She would _never_ give her up.

**So there's another chapter done. I hope you'll all stay tuned for what's to come and I'll **_**try**_** my hardest to update whenever I get the chance. Remember though, uni comes first. Please, review. :)**


	9. A Cruel Lie

**Hey guys. I know it's been ages since I last updated but in my defence, I did warn you in the last chapter that updates would be spaced out. I'm officially a University student and I have to say, it's not as easy as it sounds. Balancing out studies and time for myself is difficult and I've found it harder and harder to write as the weeks have gone on. Let me reassure you here and know however that I'm going to continue with this story. I don't give up on my endeavours and I love this fan fiction too much to simply end it. Please be patient and I promise I'll update whenever it's in my power to do so. Thank you. :)**

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Chapter 8 – A Cruel Lie**

The warm kiss of sunlight danced along the concave of Santana's spine as she stirred from her sleep that morning. Stretching, the Latina considered all that had been driven through her mind last night. It had been a difficult time of rest. She had been consumed with thoughts of deceit and the ideas that she had were so sinister that the devil himself would've shaken his head in disgust at the level of darkness in the young woman's heart.

Exhaustion gripped her. The way time had passed so slow through the night combined with the agonizingly long search throughout yesterday evening had found Santana truly alive with fatigue. Rolling onto her back, she yawned. What she needed now was to spend the day resting comfortably. There was so much she could do to ease the aching of her limbs but first she needed a good strong cup of coffee.

Pulling herself up and out of bed, the Latina reached for her dressing gown and pulled it over her shoulders. Sighing, she went to the bedroom door and wrenched it open with a groan, strolling out and into the doorway.

The servants were already busy at work that morning. They passed Santana with short greetings and sharp bows but she paid them no mind. What was the point? They were annoying little blips of inconvenience. She had no time for them.

Strolling into the dining room, Santana smiled in amusement to find Puck eating his breakfast. Rachel and Tina were fawning over him – attending to his every whim as they wiped his crumby mouth and buttered his toast with great enthusiasm – while Quinn looked on sullenly, annoyance etched into her pretty face.

"That's enough now ladies," the Mistress ordered, "I'm sure Mr Puckerman is more than capable of finding the jam."

"Yes Miss," Rachel and Tina said together and with a bow they left the room, Quinn trailing after them.

"You spoil my fun Santana," Puck chuckled, helping himself to another piece of toast.

"I spoil your fun for your own good," Santana replied smirking, "how long have you been up?"

"Since 8:00am. Though I didn't get out of bed until 10:30am," Puck told her.

Reaching for the bowl of fruit ahead, Santana dared herself to ask the very question that had been playing through her head since her friend's arrival.

"Hoping to make things right with Quinn?"

"If I can...if you'll allow me to that is," Puck replied.

"As long as that's all you do. Quinn is still very bitter you know. I doubt she'll even look you in the eye," Santana exclaimed as she scooped a third spoonful of fruit into her bowl.

"I know," Puck winced, "though she seems to have forgiven _you_."

"No. You're wrong. She _puts up_ with me because I'm her Mistress. She doesn't forgive me at all." Santana shook her head.

"Can you blame her?" Puck demanded, sounding miserable, "we took her –"

"Mistress," Kurt stepped into the room, bowing humbly, "I'm sorry if I've disturbed you," he said, looking between Santana and Puck, nervous, "but I thought it best to tell you that Brittany is up and well."

Santana felt a rush of relief pass over her. Nodding in the servant's direction, she stood with her bowl in hand, forgetting the dilemma of Quinn instantaneously.

"Good. Go to the kitchen and have Blaine fix me a pot of coffee. Fetch it to the library," she said.

"Yes Mistress."

Turning to Puck, Santana waited for Kurt to leave. When she was sure they were alone, she spoke.

"Could you do me a favour? One I will be most grateful for."

"I'll help if I can," Puck replied, shrugging.

"I need you to look into the history of Brittany's family. Find out who she is. Who she used to belong to. I want names and locations. I need to understand who she is." Santana had formulated half of her plan the second she had left Brittany's room that night. It was the softer side of what she had dragged from the corners of her mind. In fact, it compared very little to the other half of what she planned which was too dark and _cruel_ to even consider.

"I'll need something of Brittany's in order to conduct my search," Puck said.

"The girl wears a locket around her neck. It's probably got a picture or something in it," Santana replied.

"Well that'll do perfectly," Puck exclaimed, nodding, "I can get my sources to run the pictures through a search engine. If we're lucky, it'll give us some positive results."

"How long do these things usually take?" Santana queried.

"It depends," Puck told her," but the quicker you can get me the locket, the better."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you have it today." Santana nodded.

"Good," Puck said and it appeared as though he had already lost interest for he was suddenly busy cramming his mouth with sweet croissants smothered in jam.

Smiling triumphantly, Santana left Puck behind to enjoy his breakfast in peace. She had a locket to retrieve and a servant to ensnare.

...GLEE.

Brittany stepped into the light of the mirror and examined herself with a frown. No scratches, no dirt and no torn pieces of clothing. Just a fresh face ready to start a new day. In all honestly, the youngster was pleased there was no evidence of what she had done last night. The more Brittany had slept on it the more she had felt ashamed of herself and her actions. How could she have simply chosen to run away from her home _and_ her Mistress like that? It was a wonder that Miss Santana hadn't punished her. She deserved a million lashes with the belt for her deceit. _More_ than that even. When had she grown to be so foolish? Had she always been this way?

Scoffing at her stupidity, Brittany turned her back on her reflection and went to retrieve her work shoes from their place by the door. She took them over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling them on with a sigh. Of course, some part of her understood why she had tried to run away. What being wouldn't at least _try_ to find the people they belonged to? It was human nature that she should want to search for her family. Her Mistress had said that the flashbacks were simply reminders of what she had had before. Maybe she had thought of her family even before her accident a few weeks ago. Maybe Quinn did, and Tina and Finn and all the others too. Perhaps pining for what used to be yours was a thing every slave encountered. It didn't make it easier for Brittany but the idea was comforting.

A tapping at the door stirred the young blonde's attention. Looking up, she found Sam standing just outside the threshold, smiling softly and appearing anxious.

"Can I come in?" He asked, gesturing inside the room.

Brittany felt as though she had swallowed a rock. Nodding, she forced herself to smile, "of course."

"How are you?" Sam asked. He wandered over to her bashfully, sitting beside her and grinning earnestly.

"I'm good. A little tired," Brittany answered. She hoped that stating this would encourage Sam to leave her alone. She didn't think she could handle his company right now.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He queried, "do you want me to talk to Miss Santana? Convince her to give you a few days to yourself?"

"No," Brittany shook her head, "I've wasted enough of the Mistress's time. Besides, I don't wanna make her angry."

Sam sighed but didn't argue. Looking timorous, he reached across and took Brittany's hand in his, squeezing it affectionately. Brittany fought all urges to pull away from him. The feel of his skin on hers was strange and unwanted. She imagined that of Santana's – the way her touch had felt last night – and blushed. The idea of her Mistress being close excited her and she knew it was wrong to feel this way. Why didn't Sam stir her senses like Santana did?

"There must be something I can do to make you feel more comfortable Brittany," Sam whispered, leaning closer, "just name it and it's yours."

_Space_ was the first thing to grace Brittany's thoughts. She leant back out of Sam's reach, cringing away from him and trying to ignore the way his eyes locked on her lips. If she didn't push him away now he would kiss her. She could feel it in his body language. She didn't want it. She didn't want this.

"Sam...I –"

"What is the meaning of this?"

Brittany and Sam jumped apart like two naughty children being caught raiding the cookie jar. Sam stood with his hands in his pockets, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Brittany could see that all the colour had washed away from his face. She sensed his anxiety. This was the last thing she wanted the Mistress to find them doing.

"Don't you have somewhere to be Sam," Santana hissed through an unpleasant smile. She was gripping a bowl of fruit in her shaking hands. She looked as though she were about to throw it at him.

"Um...well –"

"_Move! Now!_" The Latina snarled stepping forward, and before Brittany knew what was happening, Sam had darted out of the room, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder as he left.

Keeping her head lowered in submission, Brittany peeked up at her Mistress from under her long blonde eyelashes. Every inch of her body pounded uncontrollably. This was so wrong. How could this one human being excite and terrify her all at once? It made her blood feel as though it were curdling. She had to be dutiful and yet another part of her yearned to simply reach out and take the Latina's hand, as Sam had done with her.

"Kurt has informed me that you're feeling better this morning," Santana said abruptly.

"Much better, thank you Mistress." Brittany nodded.

Santana looked pleased. Stepping forward, she thrust the bowl of fruit into Brittany's face, "good. Then eat. You have a busy day ahead and you've missed breakfast already."

"Thank...thank you," Brittany stammered, taking the bowl and staring down at it dumbly, wanting to eat but finding herself completely immobile. She was aware of Santana's watch. The woman's gaze was hard and almost furious. Brittany was grateful to be sitting for she was sure that if she were standing she'd collapse within seconds of the Latina's entrance.

"I've come to demand something of you," Santana said, breaking the silence.

Brittany looked up, blinking in confusion. She hadn't noticed before but her Mistress was still in her nightwear. Although she were a formidable force to be reckoned with, there was something sweet and rather innocent about the way she stood there, awaiting her servants answer.

"What can I do for you Miss?" Brittany asked meekly.

"I require your locket for a little while," Santana said, pointing at the ornate golden chain that hung around Brittany's neck, "you'll have it back soon I can assure you."

"I really do not wish to part with it Mistress," Brittany said, fingering the trinket. She had never paid much mind to the locket before and now, the weight of it hung heavy against her skin.

"I demand it," Santana exclaimed resolutely, holding out her hand, "hand it over at once."

Brittany knew there was no point in arguing. Fighting the urge to cry, the youngster clasped hold of the chain around her neck and pulled it up and over her head. She whimpered pessimistically and stood, passing the necklace to her Mistress who nodded in satisfaction and pocketed the treasure without so much as a thank you.

"Good child," Santana stepped forward and petted Brittany's head like a dog, "now eat your breakfast. I expect you at my beck and call this afternoon."

Brittany nodded, "yes Mistress."

Santana turned and walked across to the other side of the room. Her form was tall and proud, her face hard and detached. She spun on her heel and observed Brittany with a raised eyebrow, appearing as though she were musing deeply.

"I hope you've had the time to think about the severity of your actions."

Brittany sighed, "yes Mistress. I can't convey how terribly sorry I am for what I did last –"

"You understand how lightly you got off, don't you?" Santana cut over her.

"Absolutely."

"Good. This evening before you retire to bed I would like a word with you," Santana said, "do not be frightened of a punishment. I'll give out none but what I have to say is of the utmost importance."

Brittany didn't know what to say. Her heart was raging against the sound of her Mistress's voice. Bowing respectfully, she watched as Santana strolled back over to the other side of the room throwing open the door with a loud clunk.

"That'll do for now," the brunette said and offering Brittany one last searing look, she swept out of the room like a cold breeze destroying a warm day.

Sighing and sinking to the floor, Brittany used the spoon in the bowl to scoop up a selection of fruits. Bringing it up to her lips, she took her first mouthful and moaned in contentment. The sweetness of the fruits sent a buzz of pleasure down her stomach and filled her with what she deemed to be enough energy to get her through the day. With all the optimism burning in her heart, the confused servant hoped that she could get through each hour as it came, even if this would be her life from now on in.

...GLEE.

Stubbing out her cigar and finishing off her third cup of coffee, Santana set her new business contract aside and called out for some assistance. There was a moment of hushed silence before two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway, heading straight for the library. A few seconds later the door opened and in shuffled Tina, followed closely by Brittany. Santana felt shame flood her body the second she beheld the pretty blonde. She tried desperately to ignore it. She was the dominant here. No silly servant was about to change the way she ran her house or lived her life.

"Yes Mistress," Tina asked, anxiously wringing her hands, "what can we do for you?"

"Go to the kitchens and have a large picnic basket made up," she ordered, "it's a nice day and I'm tired of being cooped up inside."

"Anything else?" Tina queried.

"Brittany will go and tell Mr Puckerman that I demand his company this afternoon," Santana refused to look at Brittany, not when she planned to deceive her so cruelly, "and I require the staff to be outside to serve us also."

"Yes Mistress," Brittany bowed. She looked as though she were trying to catch her Mistresses eye. Santana looked down at her hands, feeling very small indeed, "whatever you wish."

"Good. Now leave." The flustered Latina waved away her servants with her hand, wanting desperately to be left alone. She only truly relaxed when the library door clicked shut again. Sighing and standing, Santana brushed down the creases in her dress. A picnic was exactly what she needed to help her forget what she was about to do later on in the evening. She needed some sort of calm. She needed a way to ease the twitching of her irregular thoughts. Tonight she would tell Brittany a dark and violent lie. It was necessary, for she was determined to keep her...but it was also wrong.

...GLEE.

It was an amusing sight indeed, to see the gathering of servants stumbling down the embankment of _El Palacio_ that afternoon, following their Mistress and her guest as they searched for a more than adequate place to sit and get comfortable.

The sun was drifting in and out of the clouds, creating shadowy patches along the fields and pastures that made up the extensive grounds of the manor house. Towards the back of the group, trailing lazily behind her cohorts was a pretty, fresh-faced servant girl. Unlike the others, who were laughing and talking amongst themselves, the youngster looked troubled. Her eyes held a strained worry; her form was hunched over in what looked to be exhaustion and the frown that laced her features was hard and distorted.

Brittany didn't mean to be so pessimistic. It was just that she was upset about the evening ahead. Although her Mistress had promised that there would be no punishment entailed in their meeting, it still couldn't ease her trepidation. What did Santana want of her? She'd taken away her locket. Why? The thought left Brittany feeling stale and empty inside. Maybe it was a punishment. Maybe her Mistress wanted to lure her into a false sense of security before she finally brought out the belt.

"Brittany. Come here. Don't linger at the back," Quinn called from in the middle of the group, holding out her hand for the blonde to take.

Brittany pushed aside her thoughts and shuffled through the collection of servants to come and walk at Quinn's side. She took hold of her hand and laced their fingers together, needing the company of the other woman, wanting some sort of love and reassurance that only Quinn could provide.

As they walked, her gaze lingered on Santana who walked proudly to the front of the group. The woman certainly was a strong force of power in the household. It was somewhat alarming, how one person could be so untamed and reckless. Brittany had never met a woman who was so in-touch with her strength. Santana's anger belonged to that of a man. It was too firm. It was _brisk_. It made Brittany very scared and very confused. She admired Santana's power greatly but when being constantly challenged with it, it simply made her weak.

"Why are you so quiet?" Quinn whispered, leaning in curiously.

Brittany blinked in bewilderment at the sound of Quinn's voice and turned to look at her, "no reason. Just...just thinking."

"About what?"

Brittany searched in her mind for some excuse but could find nothing of the sort. She shook her head and sighed, feeling miserable.

"The Mistress wishes to speak with me tonight," she answered, "I guess I'm worried of what she'll say."

Quinn frowned, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Would you like me to come with you?"

"I don't think Miss Santana will allow it," Brittany shook her head, "but thanks for offering. I'll be fine. She promised I wasn't going to be punished. So I don't suppose it's gonna be a terribly bad thing."

Looking satisfied, Quinn let the conversation fall into a swift silence. Together, the friends walked, swinging their joined hands back and forth in a sharp rhythm. Brittany liked feeling safe in Quinn's presence. The other blonde left her calm and full of rest. It was different with Quinn than with the others. Sam made her feel ultimately uncomfortable and she cringed away with the mere thought of him. Santana simply left her sullen with confusion and rabid with an ache between her legs. Yes. Quinn was different. She stopped Brittany from hurting. It was so easy to be around her. Brittany knew she could spend an eternity with her. Heck, maybe she would.

"We'll stop here," Santana's voice boomed overhead, bringing each servant to a halt, "start unpacking the picnic basket. Arrange the seats. Be ready to serve when I require it."

Brittany's stomach whooped at the sight of her Mistress behaving so regally. All thoughts of Quinn shot out of her head in an instant.

...GLEE.

Santana leant back in her small pull-out deck chair and fanned herself delicately with her oriental hand fan, lapping up the warmth with a soft, breathy moan. Looking ahead, she kept her gaze locked upon her servants who were busy amusing themselves as they waited for orders in how best to attend their Mistress. Tina and Artie were chatting amicably together, sipping homemade lemonade to quench the thirst that came with the startling heat. Rachel was sprawled out in the grass, dozing lazily away from the pair, her chest rising and falling in a gentle calm. Mercedes, Kurt, Quinn and Blaine were huddled in a group and though nothing of particular interest seemed to pass between them, they seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Set apart from the assembly, apparently in some lost fantasy was Brittany. Although Santana had little desire to watch her, she could not help but turn to gaze in her direction every now and then, unable to stop herself it seemed. She was _so_ beautiful. The way the sunlight trailed through her hair, the way her eyes were misty in dream. Santana didn't quite know what to do. Every inch of her wanted this being. She could not help it.

"She is pretty. I can see the appeal," Puck said from his place beside her.

Turning to look at her companion, Santana found that the young man's eyes were trained on Brittany also. Curious. Amused.

"Pretty? That's not a word you use often," the Latina laughed, "hot maybe? Sexy. But never pretty."

"Well I didn't want to annoy you by using the word 'hot' to describe little miss blonde over there," Puck said, "though she's got an attractive face. Simple. I can see why someone would want to snap her up as a sex slave. I could imagine she'd be very good in bed."

"That's enough," Santana hissed. A blinding heat spurted up her spine.

"Oh come on Santana," Puck said, shaking his head, "you know very well that Brittany was never going to be just some domestic house servant. She was going to be purchased by a pervy, sick twisted old man who would probably beat her whenever she tried to fight off his advances."

"Well then it's a good thing that she works for me." Santana grinned, pleased.

Puck looked sceptical, "are you sure your intentions with blondie are entirely innocent?"

"We both know that what goes on in my head contains very little purity," Santana replied, sighing, "but I am trying to abstain from making the girl anything other than a servant."

Puck turned to lean on his arm, facing the Latina more directly, "there's nothing wrong with going after what you want you know. She's yours. You are her Mistress. If you want her to be your plaything then do it. She's your property Santana. Use her as you like."

The idea of ever being intimate with Brittany was certainly an exciting notion. Somewhere in the back of Santana's head was an image of their bodies, sticky with sweat and tangled in a naked embrace, panting and rubbing, moving in a wave that could not be stopped and _would_ not be stopped. Shifting uncomfortably, trying to swing the thoughts in a different direction, Santana rolled onto her side and away from Puck, who snorted in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"You want her like that, don't you?" He asked. His hand came up to the small of her back, stroking reassuringly, "as a sex slave I mean?"

"It doesn't matter what I want," Santana said. She was staring at Brittany's back so intensely that it was a wonder the youngster didn't feel her searing gaze.

"Of course it matters," Puck chuckled, "it's like I said. She's yours. If you want her. Take her."

"Sometimes I'm not sure what I want." Fishing inside her jacket pocket, Santana retrieved the locket that Brittany had reluctantly handed over earlier and passed it over her shoulder to Puck. "Here. One trinket as promised."

The young man seemed almost pleased. "I'll see what I can do."

...GLEE.

It had been a pleasant evening when Brittany considered all that had happened in the past few hours. She had been given the opportunity to lie in the open and lap up the heat. She'd spent time with her friends, listening to their chatter and enjoying the sounds of their voices. She'd been away from _El Palacio_ and the duty of being a servant and what's more, she had been given a day free of the memories of a family that she was clearly not meant to think of.

Lifting herself up and onto her elbows, Brittany surveyed the dance of a pretty little butterfly that had been fluttering through the grass delicately. Her eyes followed the creature's pattern of flight, delighting in the way it bounced here and there without a care in the world. It was so easy to forget everything that had occurred over the weeks of her return to _El Palacio_ when she was immersed in such calm.

The shadow of a graceful figure suddenly cast over Brittany's line of sight, disturbing her soft reverie. Looking up, the blonde smiled, finding Quinn standing in her way, looking just as blissful as she.

"Mind if I join you?" The other servant asked.

"Not at all," Brittany replied and she patted the space beside her in invitation.

Quinn looked pleased indeed as she set herself down beside Brittany. She leant into the youngster with a calm and almost sleepy look upon her fine and beautiful face. With a noise that was soft and breathy, she nuzzled her nose close to Brittany's neck, gentle and affectionate.

"You've spent a lot of time by yourself today," Quinn murmured, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I guess I've just enjoyed my own company for a change, instead of everyone else's," Brittany answered.

"Are you still worried about Miss Santana? About what she might say to you later this evening?" Quinn asked, pulling back a little to better look into Brittany's big blue eyes.

"No," Brittany answered honestly, "I've just been too content to move."

"Hmm, I know what you mean," Quinn chuckled, "I love this heat." They sat in silence for a while, lifting their faces to the sunlight. Brittany could feel Quinn's resignation, her body elevated in a way that exposed all of her to the warmth. Then, taking the blonde completely by surprise, the older servant rolled over onto her stomach and settled close to Brittany, nestling close again so that their faces were impossibly close, their noses touching in the most intimate of ways.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

Brittany shifted a little, breathing in Quinn's fresh, clean scent.

"Are you happy here?" She finally asked.

Quinn paused and Brittany felt her frown against her face. Pulling away, the servant looked somewhat confused and startled by the question.

"Well...I suppose," she answered, sounding uncertain, "there are worse things in life than this."

"Really?" Brittany murmured.

"Of course. I know you find _El Palacio_ quite unbearable but the truth of the matter is, it's our home. Without it, we would be nothing. Without this employment we would be somewhere else, suffering."

"Aren't we suffering now?" Brittany asked. Surely this was hell?

Quinn chuckled tenderly and leant in to press a smooth maternal kiss to the top of Brittany's head, "no." Her answer was simple and spoken in a way that told Brittany not to ask anymore. She couldn't have spoken even if she'd wanted to. In that moment, a set of sharp footsteps broke into their intimate bubble. Turning to look over her shoulder, she was quite unsurprised to find her Mistress standing before them, wearing an identical expression to that in which she had offered Sam earlier that day.

Scrambling to her feet, Brittany felt her stomach whoop with discomfort. Quinn too, in the sudden frenzy, clambered up from the ground.

"Miss Santana," she murmured feebly, bowing.

"We are returning to the house," Santana said, ignoring Quinn and looking directly at Brittany. She brought from behind her back a small, yellow parasol, "you will escort me and keep my head shaded from the sun."

She thrust the object into Brittany's arms. The youngster staggered back against the force of the woman's sudden attack. Sighing, she nodded reluctantly, "of course Mistress. As you wish," and with that, she opened the parasol up and brought it to rest over Santana's head before following her through the field like a faithful lap dog. She didn't dare to look back at Quinn who was left behind, waiting for the other servants.

...GLEE.

So the day submitted to the dark and night fell upon _Mérida _swiftly. Brittany stood in her room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, contemplating whether or not to go to her Mistress and receive whatever terrible thing was waiting for her. There were so many reasons for the youngster not to go that night though there was also one very strong and formidable reason for Brittany to attend also. Punishment. If she did not go, Brittany knew she would be summoned by her Mistress a different time and it would not be any less unpleasant than now.

Sucking in a deep shaky breath, Brittany wandered across her room, opened the door and slipped outside into the inky dark passageway. Her pace was slow and timid and with each step that drew her closer to the library came a tightening in her stomach that would not move on.

Brittany was so consumed in her thoughts that she barely noticed Kurt until he was standing beside her, shaking her shoulder lightly.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked.

"Miss Santana wants to see me," she replied.

"Oh," Kurt shook his head, "well you won't find her down here. She's probably in her room. She left the library about fifteen minutes ago."

Brittany flushed pink at the thought of visiting her Mistress's bedroom so late into the night. Sighing, she offered Kurt a half-hearted smile, thanked him and then scampered away quickly, heading for the staircase that led to Santana's room.

...GLEE.

Sitting comfortably in front of her vanity mirror, Santana admired herself as she brushed her hair over and over in a smooth structured rhythm. It had been a good and pleasant day. Lying out under the sun had done her the world of good and now, with the cool night air upon them, she felt well and truly relaxed, ready to slip into her cool sheets and let her bed bring her to sleep.

Her mind began to wander as she sat in idyllic contentment. She had been in thought all day yet only now did a soft idea pass over her. Perhaps tomorrow evening would be the perfect time to celebrate her new contract with the diamond company. She could throw a party in honour of her great achievement. Invite everyone. Puck would be there to offer assistance and act as her date and what's more, it would give her ample opportunity to sniff around the market for other deals and companies that might catch her eye. The life of a Lopez. There was nothing like it. Smiling confidently, Santana set a reminder in the back of her head to inform the staff of her new plan in the morning. Yes. A social gathering was exactly what she needed.

A soft knocking at the door disturbed the Latina's thoughts. Calling out, she watched from the mirror as the bedroom door swung openly slowly. Brittany stepped just within the threshold, shuffling anxiously.

"Ah Brittany," Santana had forgotten completely about their plan to meet tonight, "come in, come in."

Brittany stumbled into the room, closing the door nervously behind her. She looked anxious indeed, something that unsettled Santana in every way possible.

"Come and plait my hair for bed child," the brunette beckoned her servant forward.

Brittany nodded and made her way over to her Mistress. Santana tried to ignore the way her body jolted with excitement when Brittany's hands fell into her hair, weaving carefully.

"Why did you want to see me Miss?" Brittany queried.

"Not now," Santana told her, "you will finish your task first. Then we will talk." This was it. Santana was about spill the most merciless of lies into the world. She was going to do it. The only way to keep Brittany was this very terrible thing.

Looking up at the youngster through the mirror, Santana struggled to keep herself in check. The darker side of her character, the one that wanted Brittany in the most lustful of ways demanded that she lie and make it good and snappy. The weaker side (it didn't come out often) begged that she not force herself into this treachery. It would all end in tears if she did so.

"Is this acceptable?" Brittany asked meekly, stepping back so Santana could look at herself better. The Latina turned her head from side to side, examining the plait with a nod of satisfaction.

"Yes. I'm pleased. Now sit down." She gestured to the bed over her shoulder and turned in her seat to watch Brittany walk hesitantly across the room and sit upon its edge awkwardly.

Standing, Santana tucked her hands behind the base of her spine and began to pace back and forth in front of her vanity mirror. She could sense Brittany's unease already. It was like a strong scent, pouring out of the servant in a way that was quite uncontainable. Licking her lips and taking a deep breath, the Lopez woman began.

"You seem to be under the illusion that you don't belong to me Brittany," she said. It was a good tactic in starting the lie.

Brittany looked nervous, "Mistress, I –"

"I am willing to overlook all that has happened to you of late child. You suffered a great deal when you lost your memory a few weeks ago but still, I must lay down the law in my own home."

Brittany shifted on the bed, folding her arms together and looking down at the floor in evident shame of her actions. Her submissiveness offered Santana some sort of strained confidence. She was the Mistress. She had to be strong.

"I understand that in your confusion, you long for some sort of warmth to cling to but it is now time for me to tell you the truth regarding your family." Santana said.

Brittany's eyes lit up at the mention of her relatives. Santana saw the sudden excitement overcome her tall, lithe figure. Her shoulders lifted, her fine, pale features became soft and hopeful and she twisted her hands together in an impossibly anxious manner.

"You have news about them?" She asked brightly.

"News?" Santana began to pace back and forth, "yes, I suppose you could call it that. Though all in all, it's bad news."

Brittany's smile faltered and she looked confused. "Bad news?"

"Yes," Santana replied with a nod. For some reason, Brittany's bewilderment restored some of her sense of reason. She was doing this for the good of her home and for the possessions within it. It was like what Puck said. Brittany belonged to her now. There was no need for her to share the youngster with someone else. If Brittany had the knowledge that her family were out there looking for her, she would go looking for them. She wouldn't _stop_ looking. Santana would lose her and if there was one thing she loathed more than anything else in the world, it was having to give up what was rightly hers.

"Mistress," Brittany murmured.

Santana didn't answer. How could she phrase it? How could she explain?

"Mistress?"

Santana took in a deep, long breath and turned to look at the desperate Brittany, halting on the spot.

Brittany looked puzzled, "what is it? Please...tell me."

Santana didn't know where it came from, but one second she was fighting to keep the words in and the next, they were spilling from her lips like a fountain of horror. "Your family are dead Brittany."

It was quite instantaneous. For a moment, Brittany was standing there, blinking her doe-like eyes and then suddenly, she was falling, her knees crashing to the floor with a thud that was loud and almost heart-wrenching. Santana tried to catch her but she didn't quite get there. She stood, watching the blonde as she lay on the ground, sobbing and begging for relief, pleading that it was not true.

"I'm afraid I can't help you," Santana said coldly, "their dead."

"No. Mistress...please, it can't be right," Brittany whimpered, shaking her head and crawling towards Santana on her knees, "please. It...it...it can't."

"It is what it is," Santana answered. She knelt down and set her hand on Brittany's knee, rubbing it gently.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Brittany sniffled desolately.

"I beg your pardon?" Santana pulled back, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Do you like this?" Brittany whimpered, "do you want me to hurt?"

"Of course not. I simply thought it was right to tell you," Santana said defensively, "you've been wandering around the place, acting as though this is not your home, escaping when you had no right and for what...a bunch of _dead_ people!"

At the Latina's choice of snappy words, Brittany burst into tears again. She threw her face into her hands and rocked back and forth against her knees, a miserable mess.

"Calm down child. You're becoming quite hysterical," Santana said, feeling bad again that she had inflicted this kind of emotional pain on the servant, "the thing is, you knew this before you lost your memory. You came to accept it. Your family died many years ago, all of them, in a terrible fire. You were unhappy with your life. You became a reckless party girl who did anything to forget your pain. You went on holiday to some exotic destination and whilst there and intoxicated, you were captured by a slave company. It was then that you found your way to me. I bought you and you have lived here ever since. You've been happy up until now. Up until this stupid, _foolish_ behaviour."

"Please...Mistress...don't...don't shout at me," Brittany winced, teary-eyed.

"Then don't question and berate me for your own misfortunes," Santana said, shaking her head.

Brittany looked sorry and miserable. Her bottom lip trembled and she began to cry again. She looked a mess. Santana wasn't sure how she could fix her and make her look bright again. Standing up straight, she held out her hand to Brittany who took in with her own and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Santana acted on pure instinct. She immediately wrapped Brittany up and into her arms, holding her close and tight. The blonde girl froze in her Mistress's embrace and stood stock still, as though frightened to move. Santana could do nothing but inhale her perfect, pretty scent, stroking the trellises of her hair, waiting for her to relax. It felt like an eternity and then, suddenly Brittany was completely in her hold, moulding their bodies together in act that was smooth and unperturbed. She sniffed and whimpered into Santana's shoulder, encircling her own arms around the Latina's waist and anchoring herself there.

"Hush now," Santana said.

"I just want it to not be real," Brittany cried.

"But it is real," Santana rocked them back and forth soothingly, "and you can't change that. All you can do now is accept the truth and embrace the life that you have here at _El Palacio_."

Brittany pulled back and looked at Santana closely. Her stunning blue eyes were filled with tears of loss, something that Santana could hardly stand to take in. Leaning forward, feeling spontaneous, she pressed her nose to Brittany's.

"Mistress...help me." The blonde seemed to be in true agony.

All that could be done got lost in Santana's head. She looked deeply into Brittany's eyes and saw how much she needed comfort. The servant nuzzled against her, sniffing. She could feel the warmth of her breath, the quickness in her heartbeat. Glancing down casually at Brittany's mouth, Santana's mind went blank. She needed her. Now. This second. With every part of her body aching, she leant in to close the gap between them. Brittany's eyes widened for a moment as though surprised by her Mistress's actions but she did nothing to stop her when Santana cushioned her mouth with her lips.

It was like heaven. Brittany made a noise that was half way between a squeak and a gasp but she didn't dare pull away from Santana. They stood, their lips pressed together, soft and gentle. Then, wanting to heat things up, Santana began to move her mouth, encouraging Brittany to do the same. How wonderful it was – like tasting the sweetness of the world. Brittany's lips moved like they were dancing, elegant and soft. Santana wanted more and more. How had she gone so long without this?

She brought her hands up to rest around Brittany's neck. The blonde was hesitant in her responses. It felt so good to do this. Santana had never felt more attached to anything in her entire life. Paradise could not have felt this pleasurable. All that seemed to exist was the two of them, kissing tenderly, mouths brushing and brushing and brushing in a rhythm that was clean and hungry.

Then, just when she thought that things could develop further, Brittany pulled herself away with a whimper, immediately rushing over to the other side of the room to put space between herself and Santana.

Silence filled in around them like water bursting its banks – drowning them. Santana could see Brittany's anxiousness. She held a hand to her chest, heaving dramatically like she had just returned home from a long and exhaustion run. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were wide with shock. She looked the very image of innocence destroyed.

"Did I tell you to stop what you were doing?" Santana demanded, squaring her shoulders up, trying to push aside her regret and shame for having being rejected.

Brittany looked up in disbelief. Then, something registered in her eyes and she bowed apologetically, "no Mistress. I'm...I'm sorry. I was just ta...ta...taken by surprise that's all."

"Yes well, see that you do not displease me next time."

Brittany nodded.

"Now, I'm sure the day has been long and trying and the news of your family has probably upset you dearly," Santana said, "off to bed with you. I expect to see you up and working with the others in the morning."

"Yes Mistress," Brittany answered.

Neither woman moved for a moment. They were too busy staring at one another, trying to decipher what had just happened. Finally, some of Brittany's sense returned and she shifted across the room quickly, throwing open the door and darting out into the passageway with a clumsy bow, leaving Santana quite alone.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the aroused Latina sighed and smiled sadly. So, she had told Brittany her family were dead. There would be no more need to look for them. No desire to want them. The blonde would have no reason to go on thinking of them. With luck, she would keep Brittany. She's mine, Santana thought, forgetting her sorrow.

She would start enticing her into these kind of acts on a regular basis. The kiss would start it all off. Soon, Brittany would perform even the most sexual acts on her. Santana could hardly stop herself from imagining those delicate fingers working into her womanhood. It coursed excitement throughout her entire body. She would demand and Brittany would do. It would be a marvellous arrangement.

Of course, what if Brittany were to ever find out about the lie? Would she then go looking for her family again? The idea left Santana feeling dry. The youngster would be furious. She might try and leave. She would _want_ to leave. The thought made Santana bitter with rage. No. She wouldn't allow it. Brittany would never leave. If she ever found out that her family were alive Santana would lock her away and keep her as her own personal pet. She would not have her go. Besides, one cruel lie couldn't possibly hurt her that much, could it?

**Done. Maybe it's because I haven't written in a while but wow, this chapter felt somewhat wrong. Let me know what you think. I'd love some feedback guys. Xx Review please and keep looking for more chapters. Be patient. **


	10. I Could Never Hurt You

**Hi there folks! I know its been a while but I've had lots of work on. Here's another chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy. I've been working hard on it. **

**Warning: Contains a mild attempted rape scene. **

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU. **

**Chapter 9 – I Could Never Hurt You**

It was a particularly early start that morning for the servants of _El Palacio_. In tight formation, they moved around the great manor house, tidying this and that, fixing the tiniest of imperfections and trying their damndest to make everything pristine. Those who weren't cleaning were in the kitchens, fixing up dishes and platters that could put even the finest dining to shame. Outside, lined in a row of three were massive trucks filled to the very top with the most expensive of alcoholic beverages. Marching in and out of the open doorway were delivery men, carrying in crates of exotic fruit, rich, nutty chocolates and other sweet delicacies that most folks would only dream of experiencing.

Brittany looked down at the erratic preparations for the big party and shook her head in dismay. It all seemed a bit too much, especially for the mere celebration of some silly contract her Mistress had made with a well-to-do diamond company. It was hardly fair that the servants had only learnt of this arrangement today. They had been woken up well before dawn and had started planning almost immediately, all exhausted, but too afraid to question or argue with Miss Santana.

Thinking of her Mistress sent Brittany's head alive with heat and bewilderment. Turning around, the blonde set herself down on the edge of her bed and breathed out a heavy sigh. What had _happened_ last night? How did they get to the point in which kissing felt so natural? Brittany was terrified of Santana and didn't understand why they had done what they had done but at the same time...it felt good. It felt real.

Another thing to question was Miss Santana's behaviour. Brittany had no idea she could be so gentle. Her touch had been so reassuring...so comforting. It was as though someone had taken the woman she had always feared and replaced her with a soft and very human Santana Lopez. Brittany wasn't sure if she liked it. She wasn't even sure if she could accept it but ultimately, it had been wonderful.

Oh if only she hadn't hesitated. Brittany hadn't meant to pull back but her surprise, combined with unease had gotten the better of her. On the other hand, she was glad she had ended it the way she had. Miss Santana was her superior and she, Brittany, had nothing to offer but her service. Beside, to kiss Santana like that implied that...that...no! It made Brittany into _something_ she most _certainly_ wasn't! No. She didn't like women! Of course not. That was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

...GLEE.

It was around about midday when Brittany finally had the time to stop for a well deserved break, and though she wanted nothing more than to escape to her bed for the next half an hour, she found herself, in fact, heading to Quinn's room for comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

Slipping down the corridor that led to her destination, the young blonde did her best to avoid the other servants. She was fearful of meeting their gaze in case they knew of what she had done last night. She was frightened that it would be written all over her face or imprinted in her eyes. She couldn't be sure so it was best to hide away.

Reaching Quinn's door that was slightly ajar; Brittany prepared to knock but was struck still by the manly voice that reverberated through the tiny opening.

"Please, just listen to me." It was Mr Puckerman. He was pleading. He sounded desperate.

"I've told you time and time again," Quinn's replied angrily, "I want nothing of your explanations."

Brittany leant closer to the door, straining to listen. It was strange to hear Quinn in such a rage. Although she could not see her friend, she knew that the look on her face must be one of great disgust. The real question was, however, why she was shouting at Mr Puckerman in the first place?

"If you would just let me try," Puck said quietly, "perhaps you would understand."

"_Understand?_"

"Yes," he continued, meek as ever, "I only –"

"_Understand_?" Quinn said again, the word coming out in a ruthless spit, "how can I ever understand what you did to me? You took away my only happiness in this depressing, good for nothing world I'm stuck in."

In an attempt to better see, Brittany stepped into the open doorway a little more and peered inside the room, curious and very anxious. Then she saw them: Puck and Quinn, standing not too far from one another, a picture of true animosity. Quinn stood with her back to Puck, arms folded over her chest, glaring ahead with eyes filled with tears. Puck appeared more submissive and hopeless. His handsome gaze was upon the delicate young woman before him, somewhat desperate and pitiful.

"I'm sorry," Brittany heard him say, "I know you don't believe me but I mean it. I've never regretted anything more in my whole entire life."

"Then why did you allow Santana to dictate to you what you should do," Quinn said, shaking her head, "we could've been happy. You could've convinced her that –"

"I know," Puck cut her off, dejected.

Stepping forward, he reached out for Quinn, his hands cupping around her shoulders gently. For a moment, Brittany saw the way Quinn relaxed and smiled. There was something genuine and natural in the way they acted around each other – even when they were arguing – and it was quite wonderful to witness. Then, some of Quinn's anger returned and she wrenched herself out of his hold.

"I'd kill you if I could get away with it," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Of course you wouldn't," Puck laughed.

"Yes I would," Quinn growled. She rounded on him and began to pound his chest with her fists, hard and fast. Puck took the attack as if it were nothing, allowing the servant woman to do as she pleased. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

It was quite unbearable to watch. Quinn's punches only seemed to grow more frenzied and the more frustrated she became in the knowledge that she wasn't actually harming Puck. Eventually, exhaustion got the better of her and she slowed down to a defeated, breathless stop.

"I'm sorry," Puck whispered again.

"Get out," Quinn cried, refusing to look at him.

"Please," Puck muttered, "please just let me –"

"_I said get out! _Can't you just for once do as I ask?" Quinn's voice was strained from crying.

Mr Puckerman sighed but nodded reluctantly. He looked as if he wanted to move towards Quinn again but didn't. Instead, he walked slowly across the room to the door, sighing sadly as he went.

Brittany leapt back when she saw Puck approaching and quickly pressed herself up against the wall, trying to blend in as much as possible. Puck was completely unaware of her as he opened the door and turned in the opposite direction. It was as if Brittany wasn't even there as he stormed down the corridor, muttering incoherently under his breath, shoulders hunched as he left the scene.

Brittany watched him retreat in a dizzying haze of confusion. She found she couldn't pull her eyes away, even after he'd rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. She stood for quite some time, pressed up into the wall. She wanted to move but for some reason her feet felt as though they were anchored in place to the ground and moving would be damn near impossible to do.

So focused on trying to move, Brittany didn't notice the door swinging open – not until Quinn was standing directly beside her, tear-filled eyes gazing up at her inquisitively.

"Brittany," she sniffled, "what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Brittany answered, feeling embarrassed at having been caught, "I came by to see you but then...but then I heard –"

"Noah and I arguing," Quinn finished with a sigh.

"Who's Noah?"

Something of an amused smile flitted across for half a second, "Mr Puckerman."

"Oh...him...yeah." Brittany nodded.

"Come on," Quinn beckoned with her head to her room and stepped back for Brittany to move inside, which was obeyed in an instant. She set herself down on the edge of the bed and watched as Quinn strode back and forth, back and forth across the room, anxious and fidgety.

"Quinn," Brittany mumbled, "what's wrong? What's going on between you and Mr Puckerman."

"It's a long story," Quinn replied, "one that I'm too tired to explain right now." Stopping, she cast her gaze upon Brittany in a way that was curiously still. "What's happened with you?"

Now that she knew Quinn had her own problems to deal with, Brittany wasn't so keen on seeking comfort and advice.

"It's nothing," she answered.

"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about absolutely anything, right?" Quinn said encouragingly.

"Yeah, I know," Brittany replied with a nod, "thanks. I guess I just needed some company."

Quinn came to sit beside Brittany on the bed, smiling in a manner that was softly patient. She set her hand down on Brittany's knee and rubbed it, trying to be consoling. Brittany closed her eyes at the sensation, relaxing in an instant. She knew that being with Quinn would make everything better. The woman just oozed maternal charm and she was exactly what Brittany needed to feel herself again.

Opening her eyes, the troubled blonde took a moment to take in Quinn's fine face. She was absolutely beautiful. In fact, it could even be questioned that she held more beauty that Miss Santana. Her features were simply flawless. Her face was small yet those eyes of hazel were bold and bright. Her nose was dainty; her skin was smooth and most likely very soft to the touch. Her pink lips were incredibly pretty to gaze upon. Actually, so staggered was she by Quinn's beauty, that it left Brittany wondering what it would be like to be kissed by Quinn. Would her friend be softer than that of her Mistress? Santana had certainly been gentle in her attention of kissing Brittany – a surprising experience indeed – but did it compare to other women?

"Tell me what's bothering you," Quinn asked, disturbing the quiet.

"It's nothing," Brittany muttered again, suddenly ashamed with her own thoughts. Why was she doing this? Why did she suddenly want this sort of thing? It was wrong.

"Come on," Quinn said, leaning forward and gazing up at Brittany through her long blonde eyelashes, "you know I won't judge you."

"I'm scared that you will," Brittany sighed, "and to be honest, I don't think I meant to say anything."

"Why?" Quinn frowned, "has someone upset you Brittany?"

Shaking her head, Brittany wanted to convey all that had happened between herself and her Mistress last night but knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was forbidden to speak of it. She was still focused on Quinn's lips and how they might feel against her own. Did she dare to even wonder? The idea of lusting after a woman in such a way made Brittany strain back to her forgotten past. Had she been like this before? Maybe she was attracted to women and had always been? Maybe that was why she wasn't interested in Sam's advances. She truly didn't know.

"Come on sweetie," Quinn said, "talk to me."

It came as a bit of a shock to Brittany but she just couldn't help herself. She had to know the truth. So, encouraged by the voice in the back of her tortured thoughts and that aching confusion within her gut, she brought her head down to Quinn's level and quickly caught the other woman's mouth up in a terrified yet swift kiss.

Quinn gasped at the contact and jerked back a little, startled, breaking the contact between them immediately. Her eyes were wide and questioning and she wiped her mouth as she took in the daring young servant opposite her.

At the mere sight of those searching almost disapproving eyes looking back at her, Brittany lost all her nerve. She threw herself up and away from Quinn and stumbled back, her cheeks flushed and her entire body shaking with embarrassment.

"Brittany," Quinn said, pulling herself up off the bed, "its –"

"I'm sorry," the blonde whimpered, "I'm so sorry."

"No," Quinn mumbled, "it's fine. Please, wait –"

Brittany couldn't wait, however. She felt sick to the stomach. She couldn't believe that she had even tried her luck. She must've looked like an idiot. Of course Quinn wouldn't be interested in her. Beside, the kiss may have been short but it didn't compare at all to Santana's hungry yet gentle touch. With these thoughts rushing through her head, the youngster fled the room, ignoring Quinn's calls.

"Brittany! Please. Stop. I'm not mad. Brittany, come back."

...GLEE.

"Tada!" Santana said to Puck as she stepped out of her walk-through cupboard in a dark red, knee-length tight dress, "what do you think?" She turned twice on the stop, holding up her arms so he could better see.

Puck whistled low, nodding in appreciation, "hot as hell!" He said.

"You think? I'm hoping to get a little action tonight," Santana said, grinning as she made her way over to her vanity mirror to retrieve her ruby earrings. They would go perfectly with the outfit.

"Seriously," Puck chuckled, "you're not gonna fail if you're wearing that sexy little number. Who you planning to score with? Brittany?"

"Course not," Santana rolled her eyes, "just one of the women at the party maybe. I haven't fooled around in months. My beds starting to grow cold. I need someone to help me warm it up."

"But I thought you and Brit –"

"Puck please," Santana cut over him. She looked at her friend through the reflection of the mirror, trying to act indifferent, "she's just a silly, stupid thing. Besides, I'm not sure she would even _know_ how to please me. She doesn't seem all that experienced."

"That shouldn't stop you," Puck said.

"Hmm," Santana sighed, "you're right." She thought of all things she wanted Brittany to do for her and a shiver of satisfaction rippled down her spine at a delicate speed. Then she remembered how scared and nervous the servant had been last night and thought better of pushing her too soon. The kiss had been enough. No. She would need to bide her time. Only for a short while. Then Brittany would be the ultimate pleasure toy. "it doesn't matter at the moment." She abruptly shook her head, "I'll find someone else to play with tonight."

...GLEE.

Brittany did her damndest to avoid Quinn for the rest of the day. Whenever she saw the other servant she would quickly duck away before Quinn could get a word in edgewise and she had never been more grateful for having long nimble legs that could carry her away speedily before anything could be said.

It was safe to say she was still flushed with shame. Brittany truly felt as though she had betrayed her friendship with Quinn. She knew thing would be awkward from now on and wished sorely that she had thought before she had acted on her own mixed up emotions. If only Santana would stop messing with her head. Why would she want Brittany in that way anyway? She was a servant – nothing more than a possession amongst a million _other_ possessions in the house. What use was she other than servitude?

Sighing, Brittany reached for the pretty little dress that hung on the back of her door. It was the outfit she (and all the other women) had been instructed to wear for the night so that Miss Santana's guests would recognise her as a servant. Removing it from its bag she took to admiring its intricate beauty. It was long and flowing to about the knee, white in colour with a modern, black lace material bodice just under the breast line. It had no shoulder straps and was soft and smooth to put your hand upon and though Brittany wanted to dislike it, she couldn't. It was the greatest, most beautiful thing she had ever had the honour of wearing. Setting the dress up against her figure, the blonde wondered what Santana would think of the dress. Would she be pleased with Brittany? The idea of having her Mistress's eyes on her as she wore the dress left Brittany's stomach pulsing. Her body was suddenly raging hot! Why didn't Quinn have the same affect on her? Why didn't Sam even? Surely this wasn't right or normal.

A tapping at the door stopped her train of thought instantaneously. Turning, she found Mercedes standing in the open doorway, watching her anxiously.

"Uh...sorry to disturb you Brittany," she said, "but we have about an hour until the guests start arriving. We've got soup in the kitchen if you want something to eat now before we're all too rushed off our feet to function later."

"Thanks," Brittany nodded with a smile, "I'd love some soup."

"Cool," Mercedes said, "just pop in whenever you're ready." She made to walk away but stopped and glanced at the youngster from over her shoulder, "be careful tonight, okay?"

Frowning, Brittany cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

"Just try and stay with someone at all times," the African American woman advised, "some of Miss Santana's guest can be...they can...they can be...well," she trailed off, "just watch yourself. They're not exactly nice people."

"Oh...okay," Brittany said, grateful.

"Good," Mercedes sighed, looking more at ease. She smiled a bright smile at Brittany and disappeared through the door, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, calming the servant woman's mind as she listened.

...GLEE.

Santana stood with her arm linked with Puck's and watched as guest upon guest entered the grand hall. Everything was set up in absolute perfection for the evening's festivities. Music played dramatically overhead by a small orchestra. Servants flitted here and there with trays of delicious canapés and flutes of expensive champagne. Every surface of the hall gleamed with polish. In the far corner of the entrance was a group of contemporary dancers, shifting and moving in the most exquisite of ways and above, arranged in absolute precision were twinkling lights of gold and silver. It was all Santana had hoped for and more. If all went right, the party would be a celebration to be remembered for years.

"Look," Puck said, motioning with his head to the right, "Jesse St James is present and accounted for."

"Ugh," Santana grimaced at the sight of tall gentlemen dressed smartly in a tuxedo with dark wicked eyes and fluffy brown hair, "I invite him every time but I never want him to show up."

Jesse St James was a man of extreme power. He was perhaps even on the same par of wealth as the Lopez family. He specialised in the selling of slaves, particularly those of the sexual nature and was feared by many for his calculating violence and easy manipulation of his victims. He lived in an estate not too far from _El Palacio_ – one that was filled from top to bottom with slaves – and though she put up with him, it was not a secret that Santana in fact, loathed everything about the suave, arrogant businessman.

"Who's that he's got with him?"

Santana leant forward to better see. Hanging timidly on Jesse's arm was a young woman who was no older than eighteen years old. Everything about her screamed exhaustion. She was thin to the point in which her clavicle could be seen protruding from her neck. Her eyes were hooded in defeat. Her face was sunken in and her hair, though arranged in pretty ringlets had little shine to its soft blonde texture.

"Is she the new flavour of the month?" Puck chuckled.

"No," Santana said and there was a hint of sadness in her voice. She caught sight of the girl's wrists and saw the evidential tight, red markings of them once being bounded with a rope, "she's a slave." It felt almost hypocritical to be pitying this small, defeated creature but pity her Santana did for though she could sometimes be a cruel and frightening Mistress, she had never once neglected her servants to the state of which this girl had been reduced. She looked very near death.

"Hmm," Puck's amusement changed at the realisation. Tugging on Santana's arm, he began to lead her across the room, "come on. We'll get a drink and you can mingle with your new business partners."

"Good idea," Santana said, smiling and she allowed herself to be drawn away from the disgrace that was Jesse St James.

...GLEE.

It is said that times flies when you're having fun and this statement was never truer as hour upon hour passed into the night. The guests at _El Palacio_ had shared in a party that had put any other extravagant affair of the year to shame. Santana was well and truly pleased. She strutted about her stately home, engaging people in conversation, proposing new deals and merely enjoying herself to the fullest. Success was on her shoulder and she felt as though she were on top of the world.

"What a beautiful dress Santana," Mr Green, one of her favourite clients remarked as they danced along to the soft jazzy beat that had started up only a few seconds ago, "my wife has spoken of nothing else all night."

"You're wife has excellent taste," Santana said, allowing her dance partner to guide her around the room.

"You must find it hard to run such a big household on your own," Mr Green said, "have you not thought about settling down? It's the Lopez way."

Santana smiled, indulging in the small talk. Mr Green was a sweet old man and she preferred his company to most in the room. "I'm afraid I'm not as tuned into my family traditions," she caught sight of Brittany serving one of her guests and her smile widened, "besides, I'm a woman who enjoys pleasure. I'd suffocate if I were tied down."

Mr Green chuckled, "you are so like your mother. She was restless too."

Santana felt something clench in her chest at the mention of her mother. There was little that she wished to remember about her and that was fine but every now and then, the Latina would be washed away in a memory of her and she would pine and ache in confusion...somewhat lost.

"Are you okay my lovely?"

Santana shook her head, baffled by her own thoughts, "yes, thank you. Um...if you would just excuse me?"

"Of course," Mr Green said and he stepped away, releasing Santana who immediately retreated across the hall, needing a few moments alone with her own thoughts. Trying to be casual, she slipped out of the hall and into the nearest room within her reach – one of the sitting areas. Sighing, she entered its darkened shell and collapsed with a sigh into one of the chairs, breathing deeply. Oh how she wished someone hadn't brought up her mother. It seared so many unwanted memories into her mind. It wasn't unknown that the Lopez family were a cold collection of beings and child-rearing had never been their strongest point. Santana had always –

"Mistress, is everything alright?"

Looking up, the Latina found Sam standing in the doorway, watching her curiously.

"I'm fine," she told him, shrugging her shoulders, "just worn out."

"Would you like me to bring you some painkillers?" Sam asked.

"No, it'll pass in a few minutes," she leant on her hand, sighing, "go to the kitchens and tell the others to prepare dinner."

Sam nodded.

"And inform the guests."

"Right away," Sam said. He made to bow but stopped and turned back to look at Santana, "I was wondering whether I could talk to you about Brittany."

The Mistress fought off the desire to roll her eyes, "I've told you that I haven't the time to listen to your chatter Sam. Another time."

"It would only be –"

"I told you no!" Santana snapped. She would not think of Brittany tonight! One problem was bad enough.

Sam must've seen the fire in her eyes (or perhaps it was because he knew she was already upset) for he scampered off before Santana could bark out another order. Sighing and rising from her chair, the Latina smoothed out the creases in her dress and made her way back through into the hallway, trying to contain her emotions and pushing her past to the back of her mind.

"There you are!" Looking up, Santana found Puck moving towards her down the hallway, smiling invitingly, "I've been looking for you for ages. Dinners up."

"I needed a few minutes to myself," Santana replied, shrugging.

"You okay?" Puck asked, touching her arm.

"Yeah," Santana lied, "I guess all this party planning has finally gotten to my head."

"Well fret no more beautiful," Puck said with a chuckle, "I've got news that'll make your head ring."

"Ooh," Santana perked up at the enthusiasm in her friends voice, "tell me."

"Sugar Motta," Puck said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Hmm, really," Santana's body flushed. Sugar Motta was a wealthy young woman who Santana liked to fool around with every now and then. They had never particularly been friends but Santana found that she didn't hang around Sugar because she enjoyed her intelligent conversation. No. It was more of a physical thing. They used each other for pleasure.

"She's been asking about you," Puck said, catching onto Santana's mood, "and she's looking hot."

"Well," Santana had already forgotten about her mother and Sam and Brittany. It was a blessing, for everything felt lighter again, "I'd best go and make an appearance then."

She sauntered down the hallway, smiling to herself as she heard Puck exclaim in excitement, "yes! Girl on girl action!"

...GLEE.

Brittany felt as though she were a lost cause in the middle of all the splendour of the party. She wandered amongst the crowd of finery, offering drinks and trying her best to blend in. It wasn't really working if she were honest. The dress she wore was a symbol of her servant-status and whenever she approached Santana's guests she was offered a sneer, a sharp word and little gratitude in her service. She tried desperately to let the hurt and shame slip to the back of her mind. She must've done this a _million_ times before the accident but she just couldn't remember if she had dealt with it better than she was doing now. She probably had. The clear-headed, non-amnesia Brittany must've brushed aside all the disgust with a smile and a curtsy...so why couldn't she now?

Having caught sight of Quinn advancing towards her, Brittany tried to duck away, embarrassment drowning her senses. _This is turning into a great night_, she thought sarcastically,_ if I'm not being disregarded like a piece of trailer trash, I've got Quinn tailing me like some lost puppy dog._

"Brittany wait," Quinn said in hushed tones, "let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to say," Brittany murmured, almost barging past a guest.

"Of course there is," Quinn was hot on her heels, whispering, "you kissed me."

"It was a mistake. It never happened."

"Oh yeah," Quinn challenged, "so why are you running from me now if it never happened huh?"

Brittany halted and the glasses that were balanced on the tray in her hands suddenly went sliding across its cool surface and went tumbling to the floor, where they smashed and splattered all over the floor. Every eye in the room was suddenly on the scene, watching and muttering in disapproval. Kneeling, Brittany set about to fix the problem with Quinn following close behind. The women worked quietly, trying to sweep all the glass up with their hands, ignoring how the guests watched them in disgust, clearly unimpressed.

"Brittany," Quinn said softly, looking up at the anxious blonde, "I don't –"

"What's going on here?"

Brittany didn't even need to lift her gaze to know that Miss Santana was standing in front of them. She recognised her voice instantaneously. Licking her lips and trying to push down the butterflies that were flitting around in her stomach, she stood and bowed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I dropped the glasses. It was an accident."

"You've made quite a mess," Santana replied, "just make sure it's all cleaned up. Dinner is about to start so be quick about it."

"Yes Mistress," Brittany said, grateful that Santana hadn't made too much of a fuss over the spillage. Leaning forward, she scooped another pile of tiny piercing shards towards the second pile in front of her knees, eager to prove that she was doing her Mistress's bidding in speeding up the process in which she cleaned.

"Brittany," Quinn sighed, "I know that you don't want to talk about what happened earlier and I understand that you're embarrassed but really, all I've been trying to tell you all day is that I'm not mad that you kissed me."

At those words, Brittany looked up, meeting Quinn's gaze for the first time since the kiss, "really?"

"Yeah," the other blonde nodded, "and what's more, I'm not going –"

"Enough talking you two," Rachel bustled in with a brush, scooping up the glass and sliding back out as quick as a bullet from a gun, "the dinner's being brought out. Come on."

Brittany's relief sunk, "oh right. Yeah," looking at Quinn, she smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "we'd better get back to work."

"Sure...but can we talk about this?" Quinn asked, "later?"

Brittany nodded.

"Good," Quinn said, her smile growing wider. She leant across and pressed a kiss to Brittany's forehead, completely reassuring the other blonde that nothing had changed between them, "I'll see you later then. Come to my room after the party."

"Okay," Brittany answered.

Quinn stood and made her way out of the hall, the conversation obviously at an end. Brittany watched her go, somewhat placated by her encouragement. Everything felt a little lighter now, even if the world was still clouded over in hazy confusion.

...GLEE.

It was easy to feel powerful when you were sitting at the head of a table whilst basking in the company of many, _many_ equally powerful people and for Santana, such a moment was regular but always welcomed. Reaching for her flute of wine, the Latina sipped, feeling pleased, and gazed down at the sumptuous traditional Venezuelan meal that had been prepared especially for the night – _Chivo En Coco_ (shredded goat, cooked in coconut milk and topped in fried, mashed green bananas). It looked absolutely delicious and she knew it would taste just as good. Looking up, she turned to Puck who sat on her right hand side and smiled warmly. Surely this was impressive to say the least.

"I hope you all enjoy the meal," Santana said, addressing her guests.

"It looks fantastic," Puck exclaimed.

"I agree," Jesse St James said from three seats down, lifting his fork in salute, looking as slimy as ever, "you've done yourself proud Santana."

Santana nodded in Jesse's direction, grimacing, "thank you."

"And I must admit," Jesse continued, "you're servants get prettier and prettier by the second." He turned to admire the women around him, smiling wickedly at Rachel as she passed by and then in turn at Quinn, "blondie has always had a little something-something going on there."

Puck growled threateningly.

Jesse chuckled, "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of touching her my friend. I'm not one to satisfy myself on damaged goods, "he dipped his index finger into his wine before casually slipping it between is lips, sucking it in a suggestive manner, "besides, I'm sure Santana wouldn't mind letting me play with a different servant."

Santana tried to contain herself. She cut into a piece of the goat meat and brought it to her mouth, chewing hungrily. If she didn't ignore Jesse she might find herself speaking ill of him and though she had no problem in doing so she still had guests in which she wished to make an impact on.

"Most of these servants came from my company did they not?" Jesse queried.

"A number of them, yes," Santana replied.

"I thought so," Jesse nodded as though deep in thought, "you can just tell by simply looking at them. They are all of good stock, obedient, work hard and are easy on the eyes. Take Rachel for instance," he motioned to the brunette who was at the far end of the room, serving the meal to a couple immersed in conversation, "she's always happy to help and smiles and bows whenever she's required to. What's more, though I never got the chance to try myself before I sold her to you, I'll bet she's absolutely amazing in bed!"

"That's enough Jesse," Santana said, setting down her fork and standing.

The handsome young man hardly seemed affected by the order. He merely dipped his head in acknowledgement and muttered a short apology under his breath.

"Sticking to the topic of servants," Puck said, "where has your aid tonight? She's disappeared." Santana could see that he was trying to keep calm but that was damn near impossible when Jesse had already angered him by showing interest in Quinn.

"I've sent her to sit out in the car," Jesse shrugged his shoulders, careless; "she was boring me."

"How many servants do you have now?" Santana asked.

Jesse chuckled, "too many that I know what to do with. I get so excited about the new purchases that are brought into my business that sometimes I can't help but take a few of them for myself. It's safe to say that my stately home often gets overrun."

Santana didn't need to ask what happened when the house got too full. She imagined that Jesse disposed of the servants that outlived their uses. She couldn't bring herself to think of what fate awaited them but she knew it couldn't be pleasant.

"Would you like another glass of wine sir?" Brittany appeared at the table, bringing the conversation to an end.

Jesse glanced up at the timid blonde and frowned, his eyes suddenly clouding over with something like recognition.

"White wine," he demanded and then, turned to look at Santana, "is she new?"

"New?" A spark of fear spread up the Latina's body. Her eyes locked with Brittany and she saw the confusion and curiosity there. A voice in her head suddenly screamed out in panic. She had to lie. Keep lying! "No...no...she's been here for years."

Jesse wasn't convinced. Reaching for his newly filled glass, he twisted around in his seat and looked Brittany up and down, drinking in her pretty figure.

"Did you buy her from me?"

"No." Santana's answer was short. Abrupt.

"Hmm," Jesse reached out a hand and took hold of the bottom of Brittany's dress, brushing the material in a sickening, tasteless manner. Santana held back the desire to nudge Brittany aside and out of the way of his watch. She truly disliked the way he appeared to be inspecting her. "She looks somewhat familiar."

"So?" Puck sneered. He must've seen the look of horror in Santana's eyes, "you've see one servant, you've seen 'em all."

There was quiet for a moment or two as Jesse took in Brittany's obedient form. His eyes were locked upon her as though he were imprisoning her in his gaze. It was an intense thing to watch...suffocating, and it drove Santana crazy to know that somewhere in the back of Brittany's mind was a switch that, at any time, might flick into reality. She was terrified that Jesse and his questions would bring the servant out of the land of obscurity.

"Brittany," she said, her voice deep and demanding. The young servant looked to her Mistress with an anxious, questioning grimace, as though Santana had in fact just shouted at her, "serve the drinks. Now."

"Yes Miss Santana," she answered and she shuffled away, attending to the guests.

"I'll admit that Quenn –"

"Its Quinn –" Puck interjected.

Laughing, Jesse continued, "_Quinn_ is pretty but that one right there," he motioned to Brittany with his head, "is sex on legs! I'd fuck her so hard. I would make her cry –"

"Enough," Santana ordered, losing her patience again. No one would touch Brittany. Never. She wouldn't allow it.

"Relax, relax," Jesse held up his hands submissively, "I'm just joking."

Santana was aware that many people were watching the exchange, measuring what the brunette would do. She was only glad that Brittany was oblivious to what was going on. The servant was at the far end of the table, serving and attending to the guests, too much at a distance to know that she was being discussed in such a way.

"Keep your jokes to yourself," Santana didn't look at Jesse at all but kept her gaze upon Brittany, "and your hands too. What's mine is mine and no servants will be touched by any guest in this house tonight or any other night. Am I clear?"

A wicked smile danced across Jesse's face. There was little understanding in his eyes or perhaps the understanding was there and he simply chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, he lifted the glass he was holding and toasted the Mistress of _El Palacio._

...GLEE.

Attending to the guests as they ate dinner was a tedious business and so Brittany was more than relieved when it was over and she and the other servants were left to clear up the table. She watched the exchanges between the people in the party, intrigued indeed by how they behaved. They really were aristocrats. Every inch of them screamed wealth in a way that left Brittany actually numb with her own inferiority. The only thing that kept her from wanting to hide away in her room was the idea that her fellow servants probably felt exactly as she did – small...unimportant...empty.

"Ugh," Artie suddenly snorted in disgust, "Sugar Motta is on the prowl again I see."

"What's a Sugar Motta?" Brittany queried.

"_That_ is Sugar Motta, "Artie pointed across the room to a woman with fine shoulder length brown hair that curled here and there in lovely spirals. She was a pretty woman (her body encased in a very tight dark blue dress, and the heels she wore enhanced her average height) but Brittany knew that her beauty did not reach inside her heart for her face was one of arrogance, and that made her somewhat ugly to look upon.

"Who is she?" Brittany watched as Sugar strolled towards Santana, smiling seductively, and felt, suddenly, as though someone had kicked her hard in the gut. It was the way in which Santana returned the smile – all welcoming and excited – that simply left the young blonde aching in all the wrong places. What was this?

"She is one of Miss Santana's lovers," Artie explained and as though fate was stepping in to prove that he were not telling a lie, Santana immediately took Sugar's hand and began to drag her over to a small bench, tugging the woman down to sit with her. There, in the dim light, the women leant towards one another, muttering in soft undertones as they hands drifted here and there over one another's bodies, not remotely sexual but sexual all the same, "kind of makes you feel sick huh? Santana is fond of sleeping around."

"Really?" Brittany was hurting. Santana had kissed her last night and yet here she was now, kissing someone else for the whole world to see. It made Brittany question whether she had not enjoyed the kiss and this was the reason she had looked elsewhere. Was she a bad kisser? Was Santana ashamed of what they had done?

"Are you okay Brittany?"

"Um...yeah, I guess," Brittany muttered. She saw how Sugar dipped her head into Santana's neck, nibbling at the Latina's dark skin playfully. It was Santana's giggly response however that dug into the deepest contours of Brittany's soul. Was she really not good enough? Why had her Mistress toyed with her if she wasn't interested?

"You're not looking so good," Artie said.

"I'm actually feeling a little peaky," Brittany replied. It was true. Seeing Santana and Sugar together had left a sickness in her stomach that just wouldn't go away, "do you mind if I go and have a moment to myself? Maybe get a glass of water?"

"Not at all," Artie shook his head, "do you want me to get Quinn or Rachel to come with you?"

Brittany smiled, tearing her gaze away from Santana to look down at her friend whose face was the picture of concern. "I'll be fine thanks." She set the plate she was holding in her hands down on the tray Artie was balancing in his lap, undid the apron around her waist and made her way out of the hall with a soft, breathy sigh, not trying to look at her Mistress and wanting so desperately to ignore the pounding of her tired heart.

Wandering down hallway upon hallway, Brittany's thoughts went wild with abandon. Santana was toying with her. She meant nothing. She was just a servant designed as a means to do her Mistresses bidding. She knew she had no right, but she was angry. Although Santana terrified her very being to the core there had been something remarkable about last night that had made her feel almost...well...special. Now, however, Brittany felt cheap. More than cheap. She felt used and somewhat betrayed. It left a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and no matter how she deep she breathed it just wouldn't go away.

Entering her room, Brittany sat down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her aching eyes, sleepy and upset. She only hoped Santana and the guests wouldn't notice her absence. After all, she was just _one_ servant amongst many, right? Nestling down on the quilt, the young blonde murmured contently and closed her eyes. What if she just napped for a little while? It would help her forget her pain, if just for a few brief moments of unconsciousness. With these thoughts brushing through her mind, Brittany curled over onto her side and tucked her hand under her head, trying to get comfortable. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't hear the footsteps moving across the carpet of her room, resolute in their path. In fact, she was only aware of another presence when she felt someone tapping on her knee lightly. Jerking out of her sleep-position, Brittany yelped in surprise and looked up to find one of Miss Santana's guests – a handsome dark haired man – standing over her, watching her keenly.

"I'm sorry," the young man said in a tone of voice that hardly seemed apologetic at all, "did I frighten you?"

"No...no...I didn't know you were there, that's all," Brittany recognised him instantly. She had served him his dinner that evening. He had sat close by with Miss Santana and apparently (though Brittany had no idea how) he had upset the Mistress, for she kept reprimanding him throughout the meal, "can I help you sir? Have you lost your way?"

"Oh no, no," the gentleman smirked, "I know _exactly_ where I am."

An uncomfortable flutter overcame Brittany. She didn't like this – not one bit. Standing, she made her way over to the far end of the room, wanting to put some space between herself and this strange man.

"I'm Jesse St James by the way," the man said, "and you are?"

Brittany said nothing. She didn't know what to say but then again she didn't _want_ to say anything either. She ran her hand along the window frame, gazing at the world outside. She hoped that avoiding eye contact would make him leave quicker.

"Come now," Jesse crooned. Brittany couldn't see him but she knew he was walking towards her, getting closer and closer, "how can we exchange _pleasantries_ if you don't tell me your name?"

Swallowing, she replied, "its Britt...Brittany sir."

"Ah, such a beautiful name," Jesse was closer yet again. Something was so violently wrong here, "and such a beautiful girl."

"I...I think you should return...to...to the party now Mr James," Brittany stammered, "someone will realise you're...missing." She didn't have to turn around to know that the gentleman was standing directly behind her now. Shivering, she felt his hand come up to slip into her hair, touching and caressing her golden locks.

"There really isn't any need," Jesse crooned. His other hand came up to cup Brittany's left side, "besides, no one has noticed I'm gone."

_No one has noticed I'm gone! _

_No one has noticed I'm gone! _

_No one has noticed I'm gone! _

The words were horrifyingly loud in Brittany's already tired head. They made her tremble and feel sick. Please God, don't let this end the way she believed it might.

Jesse seemed to sense her unease and it fed his excitement. Slipping his hand down her side, his fingers gripped onto her dress like a vice and laughing wickedly, he spun the startled blonde around and rammed her up against the wall.

"No," Brittany sobbed.

"Don't worry sweetheart," Jesse sneered. His mouth lifted to capture hers and she struggled to break free, wrenching her head from side to side.

"No!"

"Yes," Jesse pulled back and laid a smack to Brittany's cheek, stinging and hard, "servants are made for two reasons! Serving and fucking! Do you understand me?"

Brittany did not reply and so Jesse, growing in frustration, raised his hand a second time and smacked her again, harder. Brittany cried out, pained. Struggling, the endangered servant, tried her damndest to shift out of Jesse's hold but was unsuccessful in every means. With one hand, he held her to the wall and with the other, he began to unbutton his expensive, black pants, unzipping the zipper and grinning in a way that spoke of all the things he was about to do to Brittany.

Ramming himself up against her, Jesse forced Brittany to feel the weight of his erection upon her leg, terrifying her into a weak slump, "I'm going to take you so hard right now. God, you're a lucky, lucky girl." he whispered, husky and excited.

"Please don't," Brittany pleaded.

"Don't fight it," Jesse's tongue was in her ear, hot, foreboding, "just relax and enjoy it sweet cheeks."

Wriggling and kicking, Brittany shook her head against Jesse's attack. She would not allow him to do this to her, not now not ever. Every inch of her was shuddering against the touch of this horrible, disgusting pig of a man but the more she felt his travelling hands, the more determined she became to get away from him.

Jesse chuckled, his sinister laugh vibrating against Brittany's chest. He dipped his head again and captured Brittany's mouth in a harsh, forceful kiss. The blonde squeaked, tasting him and wanting nothing more than to vomit. His hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing so hard that it physically hurt and it gave all of Brittany's strength not to beg him to let her go. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"Come on baby," Jesse murmured, trying to slip his tongue into Brittany's mouth as he continued to force himself against her, "I want you to cry out my name. Go on. Cry!"

Brittany yanked herself away, shaking her head, "no," she whispered.

"Cry!" Jesse demanded.

"No." Brittany tried to push him off of her, desperate, terrified.

Jesse slapped her again, making her cheek burn with heat, "I said cry you fucking whore!"

Something snapped inside of Brittany – something that came bubbling to the surface after all the pain and confusion that had spiralled from the day, or maybe from the last couple of weeks. It propelled her forward and with all the remaining power in her body, she shoved against Jesse St James, sending him to the ground with a thud. Shock reflected in both Brittany's and Jesse's eyes as they looked at one another, one from above and the other from the floor. Then Jesse's face turned stony with anger.

"You little bitch!" he scrambled to his feet but Brittany gave him no time to catch her. She darted out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her, slipping around corner upon corner. No speed could stop her from hearing Jesse's cries however. "Come back you stupid piece of shit. I'm not done with you yet."

Brittany darted into a random room, eyes searching for somewhere to hide. At the far end of, whom she believed to be Rachel's room, was a walk-through cupboard. Scurrying over, she threw open the doors and hurried inside, closing them behind her before proceeding to press up into the walls, hoping to conceal herself in the darkness. There, she waited, listening, praying that Jesse would just return to the party and forget her.

It felt like an eternity of waiting but it came nonetheless as Brittany expected – footsteps – and then the sound of the bedroom door opening. Sucking in her breath, the blonde was terrified of being found, that breathing too deeply would give away her hiding place.

"Where are you?" Jesse's voice was laced with seething rage, "when I get my hands on you I'm gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

Brittany closed her eyes tight and then re-opened them again, praying that this experience was all just a horrible dream that she was about to wake up from. When Jesse spoke again, she knew she was in fact, awake.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He chuckled, "I'm gonna tie you up to the bed and I'm gonna _take you_ and _take you_ and _take you_ until you're nothing more than a quivering mess – until you're too weak to even cry out, and then, I'm gonna turn you around and I'm gonna take you from behind and believe me, sweet little girl, it will hurt so much that you'll be _begging_ for mercy. Just think," Jesse said, a grin in his voice, "no one will come looking for you because you're just a worthless pathetic little servant and no one has yet to notice I'm gone which gives me ample opportunity to play with you all night long."

Brittany cowered into the wall as Jesse's footsteps grew ever close. This was it. He was going to find her. Every dreaded moment of her life had led up to this and now, she was going to know what it felt like to experience true, unadulterated pain.

Then...

"What in the world are you doing in here?" Brittany almost gasped out her relief. Yes. She knew that voice. It was her Mistress. Santana was here. Oh thank God. She was safe as long as the Mistress was here.

"Santana," Jesse sounded surprised and annoyed, "I was just...uh...just looking for the bathroom."

"Up the next flight of stairs," Santana answered abruptly.

"Oh," Jesse laughed, "well...that's good then. Thank you."

Brittany was sure she heard his retreating footsteps. She was so overcome with her relief that she burst into tears there and then, forgetting instantly that her Mistress was still in the room, and could most probably hear her. Of course, this was proven true when suddenly, the cupboard door swung open, revealing Brittany's saviour, still as beautiful as ever in her fine red dress and looking on in confusion at the scene before her.

"Child," Santana stepped into the cupboard, her eyes searching, "what in the world are you doing in here? Wait? Are you crying?"

Brittany's sniffled, shaking her head.

"Yes you are, now tell me, what's wrong? What's happened?" There was a strange panic to Santana's voice. Kneeling the Latina, took hold of Brittany's trembling hands and squeezed them reassuringly.

"I...he...I couldn't...and then...no...touched me...he...pushed him...and...and...and...ran away and –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Santana cut over the servant, "you're not making any sense, slow down."

Brittany took a deep gulping breath and said as calmly as she could, "Mr St James tried to...he tried to rape me."

"What?" Santana pulled back, her fine features suddenly masked in a frown.

"I hid from him...you came in...and...and...oh Mistress thank God you came here when you did," Brittany sobbed, "I thought he was going to find me."

Santana's arms immediately enfolded around Brittany drawing her in, surprising the young servant. It was strange for Brittany because she wanted to be scared and angry at her Mistress for leaving her to suffer this way but at the same time, she felt nothing more than comfortable and safe in her arms. Nestling into Santana's neck, she contented herself in being held and cared for.

"It's alright," Santana whispered, "your safe now. I have you."

Brittany shook her head, "but he's gonna come looking for me...he's gonna try again, I just know it."

"No," Santana pulled back, all seriousness, "he will never touch you again," straining her eyes, she leant in closer to Brittany, inspecting her face, "what's happened to your cheek?"

"Oh," Brittany touched the slightly raised skin on her face, feeling how it stung, "I guess he struck me a few times."

"_What?" _

Brittany didn't know how else to answer but she had little time. Her Mistress was suddenly on her feet and yanking the blonde up, she began to drag them out of the cupboard, through the room and into the corridor, where they stormed here and there through the hallways, fast and unrelenting.

"Mistress...Mistress what are you going to do?" She implored.

Santana said nothing. She dragged Brittany through the grand hall, parting the guests who looked on in interest and bewilderment and then, suddenly they were storming towards Jesse St James and then Santana had let go of her hand and _smack! _Jesse went flying to the floor for the second time that night, his glass of champagne falling from his hand and spilling all over him. Santana was like a wild feral beast. She threw herself down onto the floor, reached for the empty champagne flute, smashed it so its edges were jagged and then forced it up against Jesse's neck.

"You absolute bastard!" She cried, "how dare you touch what is mine! How dare you!"

Jesse was terrified and held up his hands in defence, "I didn't do anything. What are you talking about?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about," Santana hissed, "and after I warned you to stay away from her too. These are my things, not yours!"

"Oh please," Jesse sneered, "I wouldn't dream of touching such a pathetic scraggly excuse for a servant. She doesn't look like she even knows how to open her legs!"

There was silence in the room. Not one guest moved or spoke as they watched the exchange between Santana and Jesse. For a moment, it seemed to be over and Santana looked as though she were about to move but then, surprising everyone, she rebounded back on Jesse and with the broken champagne flute sent a swipe across his cheek, breaking the skin so that blood poured out like a crimson river.

"Ah," Jesse gasped, "what the fu –"

Slinging the glass aside, Santana reached her hands around Jesse's neck, meaning to choke him. Puck and some of the servants hurried forward, wanting to stop the Lopez woman from committing the likes of murder in front of all her esteemed guests. Brittany didn't know quite what to make of it. She had never seen Santana so angry and yet, she had no strength to stop her. She wanted Jesse to hurt. She wanted to see the breath leave his body.

"Stop it," Puck demanded, trying to grip Santana under the arms to pull her away, "this won't help."

"Yes it will," she growled, "I'll have no servant harmed by any man in my house. He tried to rape her," she turned to address Jesse, "didn't you? _Didn't you?"_

Jesse couldn't reply even if he wanted to. He was slowly starting to turn a murky blue, choking and writhing beneath Santana's hold. Brittany stepped forward, not wanting Santana to get into any trouble.

"Mistress, please," she murmured quietly, "don't hurt him. He's...he's not worth it."

Santana appeared to be beyond convincing and Jesse had gone beyond the colour of blue and was now in fact a very sickly green.

"Mistress," Brittany said again, her voice soft, "please. Stop."

Santana still showed no signs of stopping and Brittany and everyone else it seemed was sure she would eventually kill Jesse. Then, a few seconds passed and Santana released her hard grip upon the wealthy gentlemen beneath her. Pulling herself to her feet, she snorted in disgust and made to move away, leaving the scene behind her.

"Your mother would never have complained at anyone fucking a servant you know?" Jesse spluttered helplessly, trying to regain what was left of his dignity perhaps.

Santana froze and turned around to gaze down at Jesse. In her eyes shone the deepest traces of loathing and her body braced into a defensive stance.

"My mother was a great fool who thought nothing of anyone but herself," she growled, "I'm Mistress of this household now and I'll not follow into her ridiculous ideals." Brittany's respect for her Mistress grew in size from that moment on. Turning to her guests, Santana said strong and firm, "the party is over I'm afraid. If you would collect your coats, I'll have the servants see you to the door. Mr James will be escorted out personally. Finn, Sam, take care of him. Now," and spinning on her heel, Santana left the hall, not even bothering to look back as Jesse struggled to his feet.

...GLEE.

The shadows of night fell upon Mérida and sent a mass of nightmares into Brittany's fragile, shaky mind. Sitting up in her bed, she gazed around at her cold room, terrified that somewhere amongst the dark was some great hulking man ready to jump out her, ready to harm her as Jesse St James had done only hours ago.

Pulling herself out of bed, the blonde wandered through into the bathroom, breathing nervously. She switched on the light and made her way to the mirror, looking into its smooth surface with a frown. Her cheek was a sharp pink colour, bright with the bruise of every time Jesse had laid a hand on her. It made Brittany feel weak but then again the way Santana had defended her brought some of her lost strength back.

Thinking of Miss Santana was a comfort. Brittany still couldn't quite believe that she had stood up for her like she had. It gave the servant hope that her Mistress cared more than she let on. The way Santana had attacked Jesse had been brutal to say the least. It was as though she didn't care about the consequences and nothing but protecting Brittany had mattered in that moment. It made Brittany feel special – like Santana was defending her honour.

With such thoughts rippling through her mind, Brittany made her way back into her room, sighing softly. She had hoped to return to bed but she knew, without a shadow of a doubt that no amount of tossing and turning or counting sheep would help her drift back off into the land of dreams, for the nightmares were most likely still waiting there for her. Perhaps Quinn would allow her to sleep with her for the night if she asked. Both she and Quinn knew she would never try her luck again and their relationship was strictly platonic so Brittany was sure that if she asked, the other blonde would not refuse her.

Slipping on her dressing gown, Brittany hurried out of her room and tiptoed quietly down the corridor. Her pace was quick and deliberate and she dared not look behind her for fear of finding some foreboding shadow on her tail. It was strange how alarming the manor house could be in the night but then the nightmares hardly helped in easing her worry. It took all her restraint not to burst into Quinn's room the second she reached the door but then, she was glad she didn't when she heard the voices coming from inside.

It was like déjà vu all over again, exactly like this morning except now the argument between Puck and Quinn seemed more heated.

"You really don't give up do you?"

"No," Puck answered, anger sounding in his voice, "and you know I never will. Don't you understand Quinn? I'm sorry. I've been sorry ever since it happened."

Brittany pressed her ear against the door, listening intensely.

"You're not sorry for anything," Quinn murmured, "you feel nothing."

"Now hang on a second," Puck tried to defend himself, "do you think I would be standing here before you at every available chance I get if I didn't feel anything. I love you Quinn. I've loved you from the moment I set eyes on you and I'll never stop, not even when I'm dead and buried." Brittany gasped, allowing the words to wash into her system. Yes. It made sense. The reason why Puck's eyes were always following Quinn, why he was always trying to get her attention, why Quinn seemed to want to avoid him whenever it was possible – Noah Puckerman was head over heels, besotted and over the top in love with Quinn. Why had Brittany not seen it before?

Quinn didn't speak for quite some time but when she did her voice seared with something like hatred. "Then if you love me so devotedly Noah, why did you allow Santana to take our daughter away?"

_No. _Brittany didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. Puck and Quinn had a baby together. There had to be some sort of mistake. And Santana? _No_. Surely she couldn't have done such a terrible thing.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Puck whispered, "I was scared. I...I didn't think it would end the way it did. I wanted us to have a life together...to get married and...and –"

"Enough of your lies," Quinn cut over him, "that's what got me into your bed in the first place. God, I can't believe you led me on the way you did. I was this bubbly little bag of giggles around you, always itching for a compliment, always blushing when you looked at me and then you just took away all my light. Gave it away when you gave Beth away."

"Beth is safe. Santana assured me of that."

Beth. Brittany could only imagine what a beautiful child she must be. Quinn and Puck were both fine looking, intelligent beings – their child would be perfection.

"You can't know that for certain," Quinn was near tears. Brittany could hear how her voice strained with them – the true pain of a mother who had lost a child, "she might be out there right now, abused, neglected...oh God, I can't bear to think about it."

"I promise you," Brittany could just imagine Puck embracing Quinn now, "she's safe and I'm still trying to find her. I'll bring her home to you Quinnie I promise. Hey, listen to me," he said more seriously, "I promise, alright."

"What if you never find her?" Quinn sniffed, "you know, sometimes I just lie awake at night imagining where she is and what she's doing and if she's happy. She'll be seven years old next week, did you know that?"

"Of course I do," Puck replied tenderly, "I could never forget the day she was born."

"She was so small," Quinn crooned.

"And so pretty," Puck chuckled, "like her mother."

Quinn laughed but it was cut short by the sudden seriousness in her voice, "you have to find her Noah. My baby," she cried, "our baby. Are you sure Santana never told you where she was?"

"Yeah," Puck answered, "I've tried getting it out of her but she refuses. She never approved of our relationship and since you belong to her in contract she didn't think it appropriate for you to have a baby. Quinn, we've had this conversation before."

"I know," Quinn sighed, "but...but you still have to promise me that you'll keep looking for her. Beth needs us. She needs you. Promise me that if you find her you'll take her back. Promise me you'll give her a proper life."

"I promise," Puck said and Brittany knew without a doubt that he was telling the truth.

Standing outside the bedroom door, it didn't take the blonde long to realise that the conversation between Quinn and Puck had come to an end. In fact, they had apparently found something much better to do with their time. There were a few brief minutes of silence before Quinn's breathless moans began to take over the quiet. Brittany flushed pink. She could hear Puck's short grunts and the grinding of the bed beneath their movements. They were making love.

Stepping away, Brittany decided it was time to leave. Although she wanted to sleep with Quinn she knew it was damn near impossible now that Puck was doing just that. Stepping back, she shuffled down the corridor and tried to ignore the pleasurable cries of the lovers who were somehow reconciling the passion that had been wrenched from them six years ago.

...GLEE.

It was the inability to sleep that had set Santana strolling around _El Palacio_ so late into the night but it was her rage at the day's events that had filled her mind up so deep in insomnia. The hallways were cold indeed but they set a calm into Santana's heated skin, flushing the anger out of her small and nimble body. She walked here and there in her slippers, enjoying the shuffling sound as it matched the rhythmic beating of her steady heart. As long as she didn't think too much about Jesse St James and what he had so rudely attempted to do today, she would be fine. She might just hold back from smashing up every last delicate ornament within the house.

Humming softly under her breath, the troubled Latina headed in the direction of her beloved library. A quick nightcap and a read would help to ease the shaking of her tired mind. Who knows, she would most likely wake there tomorrow in the morning, it wouldn't be the first night she had slept in her most favourite place in the world.

An oomph of surprise escaped Santana's lips as she came colliding with another being in the middle of the hallway, Stumbling back, she was surprised to find Brittany standing opposite her, trembling timidly. At the sight of her Mistress, the youngster fell to her knees, bowing.

"Brittany, what are you doing here?" Santana asked, "and so late too?"

"I couldn't sleep," Brittany answered. She looked so innocent in her soft plaid pyjamas.

"Yeah, you and me both," Santana said, rolling her eyes, "stand up. The floor is too cold for you to be sitting down there."

Brittany did as she was told, standing so she were facing her Mistress. Every time Santana looked at her she felt as though her legs were plunging into quicksand. How could something so beautiful be real?

"Where were you going to?"

"Quinn's room. I wanted to maybe ask her if I could sleep in with her for the night," Brittany replied, "but she was...asleep. I didn't want to disturb her. I guess I can't shake the idea of Mr James trying to –"

"I understand," Santana said quickly, not wanting to hear the details for fear of actually hunting Jesse down to kill him. Taking Brittany's hand, she began to lead her down the corridor again, "come with me."

"Where are we going?" Brittany muttered.

"My room," Santana said, "you'll sleep in with me tonight." It was obvious that Brittany didn't want to be on her own and she would much rather the servant not stay with Quinn.

"You must be gone early tomorrow morning," Santana said, ignoring the way Brittany's hand was nervously tensed in her own, "no servant must know you spent the night in my bed. Understand?" When Brittany didn't reply, she said it again, "do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress."

...GLEE.

Santana placed her toothbrush back in its pot on the bathroom window and went through into her bedroom with a contented sigh. She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway when she caught sight of Brittany lying on her side in the bed, trembling uncontrollably and whimpering. It was clear the blonde was nervous but she had very little reason to be. Strolling across the room, the Latina switched off the bedside lamp, immersing the room in darkness, and slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately rolling over towards Brittany.

"There's no need to be so scared you know?" Santana said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I...I...know," Brittany stammered, "thank you Mistress, for letting me sleep here with you."

"Well I'm not sure you're all that happy to be here," Santana said. She slipped an arm around Brittany's waist and felt her whimper against her.

"I am...I just...I –"

"Turn around child," Santana ordered.

Brittany obeyed, turning and Santana wrapped her arms more firmly around her waist, pulling her in even closer. Then slowly she bent down and kissed Brittany gently on the lips, soft and unrushed, holding her as she did so. The servant whined, frightened it seemed but Santana did her best to lighten her stress, her fingers rubbing under Brittany's shirt on the smooth skin of her back.

"Shh," she crooned, between kisses, "it's alright."

Brittany cried and pulled back from Santana. The Latina could feel Brittany's heart pounding against her own and could practically smell the fear leaking from her.

"Hey," Santana leant in again, kissing her tenderly, "I won't hurt you," she loved this. She loved the feel of Brittany's body, "I could never hurt you."

Brittany pulled away a second time and looked deeply into Santana's eyes, searching her dark brown orbs. She licked her lips nervously before dipping her head to nervously rest on Santana's shoulder. Her arm came around Santana's waist, holding herself to her Mistress securely, trying to relax it seemed.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for what you did today. For helping me."

"It's my job," Santana said, "as you serve me I in turn serve you. I'm meant to protect you. No one will ever lay a hand on you whilst I rule this house." Santana had made this vow to herself many years ago when she had taken over the Lopez household. Her servants would receive punishments by her and no one else.

"You were amazing," Brittany yawned.

Smiling, Santana cupped Brittany's cheek and brought her head back up so that they were looking at one another in the darkness. Leaning down, she captured the young woman's lips with her own and delighted in the response that she was greeted with. She felt Brittany moan softly into her mouth and tasted the sweetness of her tongue running along the length of her bottom lip. Mingling their legs together, the Latina tried to get as close as was physically possible to Brittany and sighed in pleasure when Brittany's hands came up to her face, pulling her in so that there was not an inch of space between them. Each perfect kiss followed another and murmuring and nuzzling, they continued into the night, kissing and kissing like they might never get enough from one another.

It was when the clock struck the third hour of morning did the women drift off to sleep in each other's arms. Content. Dreamless.

**Okay so no, they did not have sex lol. Just kissing right now but please, be patient, sexy times WILL happen. So I hope you guys liked this chapter. 30 pages. Hope it was worth the wait. X **

**Tell me what you think? There's lot to take in. Quinn and Puck. Jesse. Santana and Brittany and lots more so just review and tell me what you think. Hope you're all still reading. **


	11. Feel Good Part 1

**Hi everyone. I know its been a long, long, long, long LONG time since I updated but I've been really busy with University. I will continue to reassure you all however that I will not abandon my stories and that 'I See You' will be updated soon if I can get over my terrible writersblock. Thank you.**

**Summary: ****When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in, and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Chapter 10 – Feel Good – Part 1**

It was the sharp rapping of someone's knuckles on the door that stirred Santana from her rest that calm and warm lighted morning. Murmuring unhappily in her half-asleep daze she turned over in bed, intending to ignore whomever was calling on her so early, and snuggled into her pillow with a breathy sigh, slipping her arm across the mattress to grope the sheets up and around her closer. She would've gone back to sleep quite easily too if she hadn't met, instead, the curve of a rounded hip with her hand.

Darting up and out of bed, Santana grabbed her dressing gown and slung it over her shoulders, hissing vituperatively at the young servant girl who slept peacefully in her bed.

"Get up!" She moved forward and ripped the blankets from over Brittany's body. Brittany in response, mewled in surprise. She woke in an instant, looking somewhat terrified. "Get up now! I told you to leave early! Why didn't you listen to me? Stupid girl!"

"I'm...I'm sorry Mistress." Brittany bowed her head in evident shame.

Turning to the bed, Santana gripped at Brittany's wrist, shaking her. "Come on," she ordered, "get out of the bed. Someone's knocking for me and if –"

The sound of the door swinging open silenced the pandemonium between the women. Puck stood in the open doorway and at the sight before him (Santana practically pressed up over Brittany, holding her firmly by the wrist) turned his head away, as though he felt he were intruding.

"Didn't know you had company," he said quietly, a smirk in his voice, "should I leave?"

"No. It's fine. She was just leaving," Santana said. She released her hold on Brittany who sat on the edge of the bed, immobile, nervous.

"I didn't –" The blonde began to say something but Santana cut her off.

"I'll deal with you later."

"Yes Miss," Brittany mumbled and getting up off the bed, she tiptoed past the Latina and slipped out the door as fast as her long and agile legs could carry her.

Sighing, and wanting to pretend as though Puck had just not walked in on her and Brittany, no matter how innocent it was, Santana made her way over to her bedroom window and swung it open to let the air in. She hoped that Puck would've at least moved by the time she turned back around but this was not so. He was still rooted in his spot by the door, leaning against it with an arrogant grin painted across his handsome face.

"What?" She snorted.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Cat got your tongue Puckerman." Santana's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"No," Puck pushed up off the wall and strolled over to stand in front of her, shrugging his shoulders in a careless manner, "but what can I say?"

"You've misread the situation," Santana chuckled.

"Really? How can I misread what I just saw? I find you leaning over her in bed so early in the morning and you're telling me I've just misread it all?" Puck asked.

"Yeah," Santana replied, nodding.

"Did she spend the night with you?" He asked.

"That's none of your business," Santana answered shortly.

"That's a yes then," Puck laughed and then turning serious, he rubbed her arm in reassurance, "hey; it makes no difference to me if you're sleeping with her you know?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders but in her head it made all the difference. She might've _wanted_ Brittany as a lover but she desired for no one else to know of their encounters together, not even Puck who was her trusted friend. Offering him a smile, she passed no comment on the matter and gestured to the corridor ahead.

"Shall we go and have breakfast?"

"Hmm, I suppose," Puck said in a tone of voice that spoke of how he knew she didn't really want to confide in him. Instead of pushing her for more answers, he allowed Santana to lead him out of her room and down hallway after hallway towards the dining room. They walked in a comfortable silence, one that Santana was grateful for. It gave her a few fleeting moments to herself, to think about what had gone on last night between herself and Brittany.

In retrospect's, their actions had not been _all_ that sexual. All they'd really done was kiss and curl up into one another. It was an act of comfort – Santana calming Brittany after all that had happened with Jesse and in a way, strange as it was, taking what comfort Brittany could unintentionally give her too. Santana would never admit it to anyone but the events with Jesse yesterday had shaken her to her core. They brought back a series of unwanted memories that the Latina had tried to ignore and had done so successfully for most of her life in ruling _El Palacio._ As a young girl, Santana had been plagued by the most terrible of...no! She couldn't think of it. She _wouldn't_ think of it! She was stronger than that. She would not allow herself to be weak anymore. Weakness only proved to be destruction in itself. She wouldn't be so terribly frail anymore. She'd put a stop to that the second she took over the reign of the Lopez family inheritance and she would _never_ return to it.

Santana's train of thought came to a pause as she and Puck entered the dining room. Artie and Tina were on hand immediately, bowing them into their seats and asking what they might require for breakfast.

"Just a strong coffee for me," Santana said, waving her hand at Tina dismissively.

"I'll have a full breakfast with all the works," Puck said, "worked up quite the appetite last night and now I need rejuvenating."

Quinn strolled into the dining room, pushing drinks on a small silver trolley. She smiled softly as she caught Puck's eye. Santana saw the exchange between the pair – saw the colour rising in Quinn's cheeks and the genuine touch of tenderness in Puck's manly features – but chose to ignore it.

"Were you busy last night then?" She asked, curious.

"Oh no. I went straight to bed," Puck helped himself to a glass of orange juice, looking very pleased and smug indeed, "I only meant that the party has left me feeling a little empty." He was obviously lying.

"Hmm, yes," Santana sighed as she accepted her mug of coffee from Tina with no more than a nod for a thank you, "it was an interesting evening to say the least."

"Interesting?" Puck laughed, "you _attacked_ Jesse St James. Not that he didn't deserve it."

"Exactly and I'd do it again and again and again! How dare he come into my house and fix to entertain himself with my staff."

Puck leant back in his chair, eyes still locked on Quinn as she stepped around the table, setting out cutlery and other things required for the breakfast.

"I'd be careful if I were you Santana. Jesse isn't someone to be trifled with and you know it. You've never exactly been friends before but now...well, after last night I get the feeling you may have made a very powerful enemy."

"Ha! Let him come at me with all he's got," Santana huffed, "I'm not afraid of him. You'd do the same if you were in my position or anyone else for that matter. Quinn?" She turned to the young blonde woman who jumped in surprised at being addressed. "If you were in my shoes and you knew someone was fooling around with your servants what would you have done to make the matter go disappear?" She'd purposely asked Quinn's opinion for she knew that the affair between she and Puck had never died away completely. Although it annoyed Santana, she would never put a stop to it for what was out of her sight was out of her mind but she would, of course, make Quinn uncomfortable in questioning her.

Santana was successful, of course. Quinn flushed a very deep shade of crimson and began to stammer helplessly, "well...I...I wouldn't know Mistress. It's entirely...up...up t...t...to you."

"We all agreed with your motives behind harming Mr St James Mistress," Artie cut in, nodding eagerly, "he deserved it after what he did to poor Brittany."

"Yeah, and I'm sure Brittany was grateful," Tina added.

"And so all of you should be," Santana said, sipping her coffee, "I protected you all from that _horrible, horrible_ man."

"Mr St James was very angry when he left last night." Artie sounded apprehensive.

Santana smiled, proud. The conversation that passed between her servants was interesting to say the least and it stirred in her senses a feeling of triumph and great superiority. She never failed to prove her prowess in the house and though her servants feared her they also respected her for keeping them safe and honing control over them. She liked moments like this...when her servants appeared to be like real human beings. She allowed them to talk so that she could indulge in some normality herself. She enjoyed it, though she would never admit to it.

Santana's mind strayed back to the room and she caught part of what Rachel, who must've entered the room during her time of thought, was saying, "...and he said that if he ever saw another member of this household again he'd likely to be arrested for murder."

"What?" Santana stood, puzzled, "who said this?"

Rachel stood just beside Puck, holding his breakfast in her hands. She froze beneath her Mistress's harsh, questioning gaze, looking very, very timorous.

"Mr St James," she answered quietly, "he was furious as he left the house. He swore such terrible things Mistress. It almost made me scared."

"About Brittany?"

"Especially her, Miss Santana," Rachel went on, "all of us."

"Hmm," Santana turned to Puck, "do you think I need to hire more guards? I only have Sam and Finn."

"You should be fine. I doubt Jesse is gonna try his luck again." Puck shook his head.

"I just worry," Santana said, "for their safety more than my own." She motioned to the likes of Artie and Tina who were perhaps the most breakable of her small working foundation.

"Just keep your eyes and ears open," Puck told her, "besides you humiliated him in front of hundreds of people last night. I get the feeling he's gonna lay low for a while."

Santana sat back down in her chair, relaxing at the reassuring tone in Puck's voice. Nodding she said, "you're probably right," though in truth, her mind strayed to Brittany and her servants. If Jesse was really on the warpath, how could she protect them?

...GLEE.

It had turned out to be a pleasant day in all accounts and one that Santana had enjoyed sharing with Puck. After breakfast the pair had taken a long and easy drive out to the market of _Mérida, _talking and laughing amongst themselves, relishing in each other's company as they wandered from stall to stall on foot. Then, returning, they had gone horseback riding, chasing and racing through the vast grounds of the Lopez house, jeering and teasing and merely behaving like children...a rare and beautiful sight to see in Santana. Afterwards, exhausted and spent, they'd lolled in one of the many Jacuzzi's together back at _El Palacio_, sipping wine and discussing in detail their various sexual experiences with women, boasting to one another quite proudly.

Now, clean, satisfied and a little tired, the friends found themselves in the quietness of the library, having a rather competitive game of chess as the sun sank below the mountains of _Venezuela. _

"Just admit defeat Lopez and let's call it quits," Puck taunted, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, arrogant.

"Not yet," Santana said, staring down at the board hard, trying to decide her next best shot at taking control of the game, "I still have a few moves in me."

Puck chuckled and gestured with his hands in an open invitation, clearly convinced in his impending win.

"So," Santana said musingly, "when can I expect results in your search on Brittany?"

"I'll be leaving for home tomorrow," Puck muttered, "so I'll start looking into her case then. Shouldn't be too long."

"Good. Just the thought of waiting makes me nervous."

"And so you should be. Lying to her."

Santana looked up and snorted, "how sanctimonious of you. I didn't know you were so saintly."

"You know I don't care what you're doing Santana. Brittany is your property and you can do what you like to her. I'm just warning you. People don't take kindly to being lied to."

"Yeah," Santana said, "but it's for her own good. She's safe her, away from harm. Jesse recognised her last night which can only mean one thing. She was captured by his slave snatchers. She must've been held in one of his barracks. There's probably talk in his company of an escaped slave. If he realises it's hers then we're done for."

"Why? He can't take her back," Puck snapped defensively, "he's got no proof for one that she was one of his slave girls and what's more, she might _not_ be one of his slaves. This is just a theory of yours."

"True," Santana said, for in such an illegal business there were no accounts or data taken in the capture and deliveries of purchases. That would only aid authorities in the quest to put an end to these particular enterprises, "but I can't take the risk. I want to know everything I can about her so as to truly be able to keep these lies in place."

"I'll get things in order, don't worry," Puck said.

Santana moved her only remaining Knight casually across the board and sat back with a sigh in her chair, content with the direction she'd taken in the game.

"So, what _were_ you doing this morning when I walked in on you?" Puck queried, his gaze now locked on the chess board in concentration.

"We weren't doing anything. We just spent the night together...no funny business. Brittany was still shook up after everything that happened yesterday."

"I see," Puck said, "and you still maintain that you don't want anything from her."

"You know I do," Santana answered, "but I'm trying to be careful how I bring it about."

"You own her," Puck cried as he set his face in hands, clearly frustrated, "I've said this before. Just take her and do what you want. She can't argue with you. She can't."

Santana knew that Puck spoke the truth but the guilt of her previous lies to Brittany kept her from initiating anything sexual between them. She would take the blonde eventually as her own sex slave but it was how she did it that was the problem. Santana had to be sly. She had to careful.

"I won't be like Jesse," she said, and something of the past crept up in the back of her mind again, teasing her, ominous. She remembered being a child. She remembered the fear. The hot scent of the chase...of someone creeping up...sneaking up...no! It was too terrible. "I won't force her. I have to trick her into it."

Puck looked up from the board, eyebrows raised, "what? You gonna fabricate more lies."

Santana shrugged her shoulders, "if I have to," she said and then something new sparked in her keen and intelligent mind and with it came another lie, perhaps more dark and sinister than the last.

"What you thinking?"

"Hmm...I'm not sure yet," Santana said, "but it might just work."

...GLEE.

Sitting alone on one of the many grand staircases of _El Palacio_, Brittany tried to make sense of what was now her very messed up life. The real trouble was, she couldn't remember her life before the accident and so it was hard to decipher whether it had always been so exhausting, existing in this world of serving and obeying.

Leaning back, the blonde closed her eyes and breathed a sigh, humming gently under her breath and listening to the stillness around her. The surface of the staircase was brilliantly cool, seeping through her dress and into her skin with an edge that was satisfying to her senses. The quiet set her heart in a steady pace, relaxing her, making her feel as though she were just some normal girl, sitting around and doing nothing in particular...having the _freedom_ to do nothing in particular.

"Brittany?" A surprised voice broke through the silence, startling the youngster. Opening her eyes and looking up, she found Sam standing at the top of the stairs, looking down on her with a warm and soft smile. "What are you doing down here?" He made his way down the stairs and came to sit beside her, keeping his distance but all the while looking very pleased with himself.

"Hi Sam," Brittany said, feeling anxious all of a sudden, "I was just having some me time I guess."

"Ah I know how that feels. Sometimes you just wanna escape huh?"

Brittany smiled, "yeah but we all know that's never gonna happen. I mean, look at me. I've run away twice already. I'm surprised the Mistress hasn't just gotten rid of me."

"She wouldn't do that." Sam looked uncomfortable.

"I don't know why?" Brittany muttered, "I'd have done it. She was so angry when I ran away again. Maybe it was because I got so hurt the time before. You know I still can't remember anything before my accident. I try and try so hard Sam but...it's as if my entire life has been wiped from my memory."

Sam fidgeted, grimacing. He looked as though he wanted to say something but Brittany knew better than to ask him. No one ever seemed to give her a straight answer in El Palacio.

"Do you think I'll ever settle down here?" She asked instead, "will I ever get the feeling like I belong here?"

"You do belong," Sam said, "course you do."

Brittany shook her head, not believing a word that the other servant said. Sighing, she reached her hand out and took hold of Sam's, squeezing it.

"Thanks for everything Sam. You're a good friend, you know that?"

"Yeah," Sam swallowed, looking down at their joined hands, "friends. Listen Brittany –"

At that moment, the sound of pounding footsteps resounded down the stairs and Mistress Santana appeared before them, looking livid at the sight of their joined hands.

"Mistress," Sam said, standing and bowing.

"Aren't you meant to be on guard duty Samuel?" The Latina asked – no – demanded.

"Um...yes Mistress," Sam stammered, "I was on my way there when I...I met Brittany. She looked a little down so I thought I'd tr...try and cheer her up."

"Oh how nice of you," Santana simpered sarcastically, "now move!"

Sam bowed and scampered off, throwing Brittany an apologetic look over his shoulder. Brittany almost wished he didn't have to go. She hated these moments alone with her Mistress because of everything that seemed to go on between them.

"That boy sticks to you like a leech!" Santana looked angry.

Brittany stood with a meek dutiful smile, trying not to show how nervous she was.

"Sam means no harm Miss," she mumbled.

"I don't like how he skulks around you," Santana admitted, eyes flashing, "he should learn his place. I'm the superior being in this house."

Brittany made her way up the stairs to stand in front of Santana, trembling uncontrollably. The Mistress simply rendered her beyond thought and action. Every time she was near it set Brittany's body into overdrive, terrified.

"He's just trying to help," the blonde said quietly, "I appreciate it."

Santana's glared. "Appreciate it hmm? Perhaps I should have a word with him. Make him understand whose boss around here."

"Please Miss Santana," Brittany implored. She could see Santana's rising irritation but she didn't know how to dissuade her from doing anything serious or reckless. "Sam is just helping me. I like having him around sometimes and –"

"I might just have him removed from the house. I could even –" Brittany didn't even know what possessed her to do it but it was immediate. She took one more step up to her Mistress and with a deep and shaky breath captured her mouth in a quick and spontaneous kiss. Santana made a noise that was half way between surprise and pleasure and instead of pushing Brittany away like the servant expected, responded by wrapping her arms around her waist to draw her closer.

It was a strange experience for Brittany, despite the fact that she had kissed her Mistress before. It somehow felt different here and now and whether it was because Brittany was the one initiating the kiss or because Santana was being surprisingly gentle with her, she did not know and perhaps would never understand. All she knew was that she liked it.

Santana's lips were soft against her own. She kissed Brittany as though in that moment she might not be her Mistress – as though they were equals. Bringing her arms up, she cupped Brittany's neck, nuzzling their noses together and nibbling tenderly on her bottom lip as a way to entice her servants lips open. Brittany murmured in protest for a moment and pulled back, anxious.

Santana opened her eyes, lazy and half-hooded, and smiled.

"Shh," she whispered, "come here." It was ever so temperate and it was this that brought Brittany to her again, going quite willingly. The brunette set a soft kiss to Brittany's mouth, natural and calm. Smiling in response against her Mistress's lips, Brittany allowed Santana to deepen the kiss, meeting her tongue with her own in a hungry whimper. She felt Santana's hands on her waist, pushing her back until they met the hard cushion of the wall. It was there they continued to kiss, constantly capturing one another's mouth up fervidly, hands travelling everywhere, moans turning into hushed murmurs and whispers.

Rachel's loud voice sounded in the distance not too far away. Pulling away, Santana turned her head to the sound, listening closely. Brittany took in her lips, swollen from kissing, and held in a contented sigh. She looked beautiful.

"We'd best not draw attention to ourselves here," the Mistress said quietly, "but I would like to see you tonight. We have things to discuss."

Brittany nodded as it seemed to be the only thing she _could_ do.

"Come to my room," Santana ordered, "about 9:00pm."

"Yes Miss," Brittany muttered, nodding her head softly. She put the fact that her Mistress had sent her away quite angrily from her room that morning. Maybe it wouldn't be the same this time.

Smiling, Santana leant forward and set one small kiss upon Brittany's lips before pulling away, turning on her heel and ascending the staircase again, disappearing around the corner as soon as she reached the top.

Brittany almost sunk down against the wall, needing its support. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her breath was sharp and uncontrollable. What was wrong with her? Why did Santana keep doing this to her? She was completely toying with her emotions. It was just exhausting...too exhausting for Brittany.

Groaning and clutching her head, Brittany wheezed uncomfortably. Her body was tingling all over in pleasure and she wondered whether Santana would always bring out these feelings in her. She hoped not. It made her feel weak. It made her feel good.

**I wanted to continue this chapter but feel as though it needed to end here so I'll post the second part up as soon as is possible. Please review guys and let me know what you think. **


	12. Feel Good Part 2

**Hi everyone. I tried to push the chapter through as quickly as I possibly could and I must admit, the update wasn't long following the last. **

**Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm glad to see you're all still with me. :)**

**Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters that belong to it. **

**Chapter 11 – Feel Good – Part 2**

With only an hour to spare until her rendezvous with Santana, Brittany wandered the hallways of _El Palacio_ in a restless mood, trying to shake the unease from her quaking body. She'd been walking non-stop since their brief yet tender encounter earlier that day but it hadn't really helped her in anyway. Her heart was still banging like a big bass drum and the pulse in her neck was hard and fast in its tempo. There seemed to be no hope of feeling calm, not until she saw her Mistress again and though it terrified Brittany beyond her understanding, she found that she couldn't quite reject the rush that seemed to be washing up and down her skin. She knew the only thing that could ease this aching was Santana.

Making her way into the servant's quarters, Brittany settled herself into a small armchair, the first within her reach, and breathed a heavy, impatient sigh. Closing her eyes, she rested her head upon its cushiony back-structure and took a moment or two to control herself. She had been so taken up in her own thoughts that she wasn't aware of the company she shared in the peaceful space, not until that person spoke up, disturbing the silence.

"Um...hello Brittany."

Looking up, Brittany found Artie sitting over by the open windowsill at the other end of the room, a book in his lap, his face a picture of curiosity.

Standing, Brittany tried not to look so sheepish. "Sorry," she mumbled, making her way over to the young man, "I didn't see you there."

Artie chuckled, "clearly. You look tired." It wasn't a question.

"Aren't we _all_ just a little exhausted after a hard day of work?" Brittany said. She was trying to cover up her anxiety and it seemed to work, for Artie nodded, agreeing with a knowing smile.

"It's not easy being a servant, especially in this household."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Brittany said and then under her breath spoke very quietly. "Could I ask you something in confidence? About the Mistress I mean?"

"Uh...sure...if I know the answer," Artie shrugged his shoulders, "and providing that what I say doesn't go back to her."

"Oh it wouldn't," Brittany told him, "it's just that I can't really remember a lot about Miss Santana thanks to the accident and well...I'm curious."

Artie looked reassured. Wheeling himself closer, he dipped his head so as to hear Brittany better and motioned for her to proceed with her questions.

"Well," Brittany said quietly, "Sam told me something about the Mistress once. Something that I'm not sure whether to believe. It was the night that we had that party and Miss Santana caught us." The memories of that dark night flew back into the young woman's fragile mind and she flinched against them. She remembered the beating she had gotten. She remembered saving Quinn from the same punishment.

"What did he tell you?"

Swallowing, Brittany tried to shift the lump that had formed in her throat. "He told me that...he told me that she was bisexual. I dunno whether to believe it...but then...she was all over that woman –"

"Sugar," Artie offered.

"Yes, that woman Sugar, at the party the other night. You said they were lovers."

"They are," Artie said, "or at least they _were_. Santana never really stays satisfied for long when it comes to sleeping with people. Over the years we servants have seen so many young women pass through these doors."

"Just women then?" Brittany felt rather sick to the stomach. Her tortured mind wanted to reject the idea of her Mistress ever sharing herself with another being. It just didn't feel right. Not to her.

"As far as I know," Artie shrugged his shoulders, "yeah. I reckon Miss Santana lies to the public, making them believe that she is bisexual...that she might be interested in men but, "he lowered his voice, making it so that it was damn near impossible for Brittany to even hear, "_I think she may just be a lesbian. An all woman loving woman._"

"So you've never seen a man here before?"

"Only Mr Puckerman and come on, he's not interested in anyone other than Quinn. Follows her like a lost puppy dog," Artie muttered, "not that she'll give him the time of day. Servant's aren't allowed to fool around with any of the Mistress's guests."

Brittany smiled a weak smile. If only Artie knew the truth about Quinn and Mr Puckerman. It appeared as though none of the servants were aware of their strange relationship or the fact that they had a child together. She understood why. Santana was so strict and controlling. There was no way in the world the Latina would _ever_ allow any of the others to know that she had been disobeyed by Quinn when she had taken up with Puck.

"I've gotta be honest though Brittany," Artie said, "the Mistress hasn't had anyone back at _El Palacio_ since you came –" Artie stumbled over his words suddenly as though he'd said something he shouldn't, "uh...since you came back!" He quickly amended.

"Oh," Brittany said, wondering why her fellow servant had suddenly become all nervous. "who was her last lover?"

"Um...I..." Artie seemed to be really struggling to find an answer, almost as though he didn't really have one. However, he didn't have to fret all that much, for in that moment; Tina strolled into the room, breaking up the conversation.

"Hi guys," she said, "do you think you could come and help me with the chandelier in the ballroom. Miss Santana ordered it to be cleaned this morning but I can't quite reach. Brittany's a little taller than me. If you go up on the ladder and Artie and I hold it maybe you can reach the cobwebs that I can't."

Brittany didn't particularly want to move from where she was sat. She was much too comfortable enjoying the conversation she was having with Artie. Sighing, she nonetheless pulled herself up and out of her chair and nodded unenthusiastically, not wanting to leave Tina to struggle with the task she'd been given. It didn't matter much anyway when Brittany considered things. She'd gotten what she wanted from Artie and the added task would hopefully push the time by a little quicker. Hopefully.

...GLEE.

It was with great reluctance that Santana worked that ever-dimming evening. Glancing anxiously at the grandfather clock that stood within her beautiful library, the Mistress of _El Palacio _growled in frustration. Only half-an hour until she met up with Brittany again and yet it felt as though she might have to wait even _longer_ than that.

Puck had left for bed a little while ago but in truth Santana knew he would not sleep in his own tonight. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was most likely with Quinn. It was irksome to consider. Santana had never liked sharing her possessions with anyone, had always been greedy as a child too, and yet, she found that she almost _had_ to allow Puck to have his wicked way with Quinn. He had always been such a constant friend in her life. He'd always had Santana's best interest at heart. Although she could understand little of it, she could see that Puck truly cared for Quinn in ways he had never cared for any other woman he'd bedded. _He might even love her_, the Latina thought quite bitterly as she set her gaze back down on the contract resting on the desk in front of her.

There were times that Santana almost considered handing Quinn over to Puck. She knew he would take care of her and would perhaps keep her as a constant lover instead of using her as a servant in his own grand household. Santana knew Quinn would be happy with such a thing for whether Puck loved her or not, it could not be disputed that she loved _him_. The evidence could hardly been disguised. _Then again,_ Santana mused, _she belongs to me. All of them do. Why should I part with anyone?_

Pushing her contract aside, Santana stood and made her way over to the drinks cabinet, smiling tiredly. She poured herself a drink and turned, leaning against it as she sipped at the harsh biting liquor, feeling it slip down her throat with a hiss.

Twenty minutes to spare and she would be with Brittany...telling her yet another lie that would anchor her in place to _El Palacio_ and to Santana. It seemed almost cruel to be inflicting more pain and confusion on the blonde but Santana found that the more she lied the deeper she felt in controlling Brittany. It was a satisfying business and yet not so satisfying at the same time.

_If only Sam wasn't so content in pursuing her_, Santana thought, _he really is_ _quite annoying._

She remembered with disgust the way Brittany had defended him. The young servant girl's words echoed in Santana's head.

_I like having him around sometimes! _

_I like having him around sometimes! _

_I like having him around sometimes! _

Santana grimaced, her body overheating in rage. She wouldn't allow Sam to have her. It would never happen.

"I'll put an end to this here and now," she growled, slamming her glass down on the cabinet and storming towards the door. She threw it open, bringing in the cold air of the hallway into the library and began to bellow very loudly, summoning her servants. "EVERY SERVANT IS TO REPORT TO ME NOW IMMEDIATELY! IMMEDIATELY! NO EXCUSES!"

Though she was sure that everyone had heard her, Santana shouted again, wanting to make a point.

"ALL SERVANTS HERE TO ME NOW!"

...GLEE.

Brittany, Artie and Tina had just finished cleaning the chandelier when they heard the commotion. The sounds of the other servants hurrying down the corridor past the ballroom spoke of their anxiousness to get wherever they were needed. Santana was calling – no – _screaming _for her slaves to come to her and by God were they all obeying rather sharpish.

"She sounds angry," Tina said, biting her bottom lip in a timid manner.

"I know," Brittany mumbled. Her stomach was whooping in terror. Santana didn't just sound angry. She sounded absolutely furious.

"Come on," Artie said, leading the way out of the ballroom, "we'd best go and see what she wants. Dawdling will just get us into even more trouble."

"More trouble?" Tina gasped, "but we haven't done anything."

No more was said between the three as they made their way down the corridor. Fear had rendered them speechless. Just ahead Rachel and Finn seemed to be sharing in the same silence. They were walking as fast as their legs could carry them, holding hands for support but not saying a thing to help ease the tension. It was quite terrifying.

Finally reaching the library, the group trailed in behind Finn and Rachel. Brittany tried to conceal herself amongst her fellow servants. They were all there – Quinn and Sam, Finn, Rachel and Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine and, strangely enough, though he had not been summoned, Puck. Santana stood at the front of the group, hands set firmly behind her back and body held up right. She looked so beautiful to Brittany and so very strong. There was no denying that she was Mistress of _El Palacio._ She held the room at complete stillness and she had yet to do anything.

"Are we all here?"

There was a brief mutter of 'yes mistress' amongst the group. A timid response.

"Good," Santana said, "I need everyone present to make this announcement." Turning, she strolled up and down the gathering of her servants, not making eye contact but looking rather regal indeed. "it has come to my attention that my allowance of lover's in this household is distracting people from their work."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged fearful glances with and Rachel and Finn. They were the only official lovers in the house. Brittany could sense their apprehension. It hardly seemed fair that Santana was suddenly about to tear them apart. They were doing no real harm in loving each other and if she stopped them from being together now she would lose all of her servants respect...what little the Latina _did_ have that was.

"What I'm about to say is for everyone's good," Santana continued.

Puck stepped forward, frowning, "ugh...Santana maybe you should –"

"Not now," the Mistress said, cutting over her friend, "I'm speaking." Turning on the group, she locked her gaze on Brittany. The youngster felt like a trapped animal. Santana's hold on her was harsh. Her words almost appeared to be slicing through Brittany's soft and breakable skin.

"From now on in, there will be no requests made to me about taking lovers. I've grown tired of supplying you all with contraceptives." Strolling over to one of the cupboards, she poured two drinks, handing one to Puck with a sigh. "It's been rather foolish of me when I consider it."

"Miss...Mistress," Rachel stammered helplessly, stepping forward and bowing with respect, "what does this mean? For Finn and I. For the others."

"It means that you are no more."

There was sudden pandemonium. Puck had turned to sit in one of the chairs, shaking his head in dismay. Artie and Blaine were muttering under their breaths, showing their disapproval. Rachel broke into a full assault of loud words and plea's, approaching her Mistress with her hands clenched tight together, as though in prayer. Quinn and Tina seemed to be arguing, though on _what_, Brittany could not tell and Kurt seemed to be whispering to himself, head bowed, quite irritated indeed.

"QUIET!"

Silence fell upon the room again. Brittany looked at her Mistress, noting the glimmer of rage in her eyes. She supposed that Santana was annoyed that she had been questioned so loudly by her slaves.

"Mistress, please," Rachel begged, "I love Finn. You allowed us to be together and we have been so grateful to you but now you're just going to break us up."

"Miss Santana, how is this fair?"

"It does not have to be fair," Santana said. Brittany saw how she closed her eyes as though fighting off her impatience. She knew the woman was swelling under the questions and the imploring.

Rachel stepped forward again, "I love him Mistress." She tried to take hold of Santana's hands but failed as the Latina wrenched herself away from her, "if you could just see –"

There was the disturbing noise of a palm flying hard into an unprepared cheek. There was a garbled cry of surprise and Rachel said no more. She staggered back into Finn's arms, whimpering under her breath.

"It's okay baby," he crooned to her, "we'll make it right."

"As I said, it does not have to be fair," Santana said dismissively as though she hadn't harmed Rachel in the least, "it's simply what I want and as Mistress of this house I will have _my_ desires obeyed." She looked directly at Brittany when she said this. The blonde averted her gaze, turning it to the floor instead. Her body shuddered. She felt sick. What did she want? What did Santana want?

"Mistress, surely you could allow those who are already together to stay together?" Sam asked.

"And why should I?" Santana turned to survey Sam with a cold disdainful frown.

The young man cowered, seeming to lose some of his courage.

"No," Santana approached him, "go on. Tell me why I should waste my time and money on the likes of _you_."

"Well I..." Sam stumbled back, choking on his words.

"Go ahead! Enlighten me!" Santana kept rounding on him, stalking him in a way. Brittany pitied Sam greatly. She hated how Santana could terrify each and every one of them with a mere glance. Gone was the woman who had been kissing her so tenderly earlier that day. Brittany almost wondered whether she'd existed at all?

"I...I was just thinking that perhaps –"

"_You were just thinking of yourself, weren't you?_" Santana backed Sam against the wall, towering over him, "_do you honestly think I would allow myself to be dictated to by a common, useless excuse for a man? Do you think I'm going to hand what is most certainly _mine_ over to you? I'm making it so you will never take a lover in this house Samuel._" She jabbed her finger into Sam's chest, hissing, "_and in some way, I'm doing you a service! Who would want to share your bed? You're nothing but dirt!" _

"That's enough Santana!"

Puck had stood up from where he was sitting and his tone of voice was deep and dominant. He moved about the room much like the Mistress did. He was just as strong as she was it seemed.

"I think you've made your point," Puck said. Motioning to the door, he said to the servants, "you can leave now."

No one dared move. Brittany waited for Santana to say something but instead there was nothing but a burning stillness. Puck looked somewhat calm and as he took hold of Santana's arm he appeared to pass some of that calmness onto her.

"Didn't you hear him? You can go. Get out of my sight," Santana didn't look at any of them, "but in the next few days I want both Rachel and Kurt into their own respective rooms. No arguments!"

Sending their Mistress the most loathsome of looks, the servants all departed, sullen and muttering under their breaths. Brittany glanced over her shoulder at the proud Latina, feeling timorous.

"I still expect to see you child," Santana said, "you have less than five minutes to meet me in my room."

...GLEE.

Santana paced back and forth the wide open space in her room. With only two minutes to spare until Brittany was expected to arrive, she felt anxious and riled up. After leaving Puck alone in the library (he had scolded her quite violently for her behaviour with her servants) she had retired to bed, ignoring the hidden glares from anyone she passed upon her way.

Santana had little time for Puck's lecturing, for he had tried to keep her back after the house meeting to question her. She had merely bid him goodnight with the promise to talk more tomorrow. In her eyes, what she had done was nothing more than normal behaviour required of a Mistress who wished to have true and utter dominion over her slaves.

Santana felt somewhat powerful after her showdown with Sam. She had not intended to attack him personally in front of the servants (despite the fact that the new rule of the house was for him) but he had unintentionally risen to her and in turn, had been torn down by her desire for Brittany and her need to keep Sam away from her. Yes. Santana was feeling sky high right now.

The sound of knuckles tapping gently on the door brought Santana back to earth again. Calling out, she listened for the handle being turned and the telltale sign of the door creaking, being pushed open by the hesitant being on the other side. Slinging her dressing gown over her shoulders, Santana felt her stomach whoop at the sight of Brittany entering the room. She looked a pretty picture in her soft white nightgown. Her hair, usually tugged into a ponytail was loose and reaching down along her shoulders, smooth and blonde. Her cheeks were flushed pink. _Oh she was beautiful._

"Come and sit." Santana found herself saying the words quietly. Gently. She made herself comfortable in the small armchair that was placed by her windowsill and beckoned to her servant who, with a bow, came to kneel on the floor in front of her, eyes cast to the ground. "What I'm about to tell you may very well be upsetting but I want you to try and take it in and accept it to the best of your ability."

"Yes Mistress," Brittany replied, sounding unsure.

Sitting back, Santana sighed. "There's no point in trying to beat around the bush here. The more I put it off the worse you'll feel. You're not just a normal slave in this house Brittany. No. No. You're different from the others you see. You're...you're special. You provide much more than what anyone else provides for me. More than Quinn...or Rachel or any of the other servants I have. Do you understand what I mean?"

Brittany lifted her head, confused, "no ma'am."

"Well, the thing is, you've forgotten your place in _El Palacio. _You don't know who you are but I'm about to set you straight!"

"Thank you Mistress," Brittany said.

"You," Santana said, "are my personal sex slave."

A gasp escaped Brittany's lips. Santana could see from her widened eyes and the sudden tremble in her body that she dared not believe what Santana had said to her, or perhaps she didn't _want_ to believe it.

"No. I would've remembered something like that."

"You can't remember a scrap of your life before the accident. Are you questioning me now?"

"No Miss, I'm just...no."

Grabbing Brittany by the wrist, Santana heaved her over to the bed and shoved her down upon it. The blonde squealed.

Pacing back and forth again, Santana said, "do you think I would lie about something like this? We've spent the last couple of weeks dancing around each other. How can you explain the way we've been meeting? The kissing? That incident in the stables. Our bodies know each other, whether your memory will permit you to think of anything else or not."

"If I'm you're..." Brittany struggled to say the word, "sex slave...then why have I not...why haven't we –"

"Why haven't we had sex? Since your accident?" Santana queried.

Brittany nodded, biting her bottom lip. Santana's body screamed with arousal. She couldn't help but want to take that lip between her teeth and bite and nibble upon its plush flesh.

"I wasn't about to terrify you by attacking you left, right and centre. No. I had to bide my time and be patient. Anything else would've stood as rape in my mind."

"But now?"

"Now I want you. I can barely control myself. I knew I had to have you tonight." This was in fact the most honest thing Santana had said all night. This was the truth.

Brittany tried to shift across the bed, out of her Mistress's way. Santana saw what she was about to do and climbed onto the bed so she were facing her servant.

"Every night you would come into my room. You would strip down naked. You would kneel before me as I sat on the bed and you would _pleasure_ me. Anything my heart desired was mine. You didn't argue. You didn't complain."

Brittany whimpered, shaking her head. "Please don't tell me this."

"It's the truth," Santana lied, "I have fucked you so many times in this bed! I am your Mistress you see. From the very second that I bought you I made it so that you would offer me nothing but satisfaction." It was a cold thing to say. Brittany looked absolutely scared out of her wits but Santana knew she couldn't help herself. She wanted to feel that body beneath her, writhing. She _would_ have her.

"Why hasn't anyone said anything to me?" Brittany asked, sniffling back tears.

"No one knows. This is between you and I. You are mine. I don't share you with anyone," Santana said in a tone of voice that practically screamed, 'this should be so obvious to you.'

Santana set both knee's on each side of Brittany's torso, anchoring her down into the mattress and sheets. The blonde all but shrank away. It was obvious she didn't want the Latina to touch her.

"You're so sure that you haven't been with me sexually and yet, your body automatically responds to my touch." She ran a flat palm down Brittany's neck to the length of her breasts and over her taut stomach. Brittany shivered. Santana smiled. Proud. "See child! See how you want this too."

"I'm...I'm –"

"That's it," Santana whispered. She allowed her hand to slip down between Brittany's legs, "I want to make you mine now. It's been so long since we've touched like this," she lied. She cupped Brittany's sex hard and the blonde hissed and arched her back.

Taking one of Brittany's hands, Santana brought it to her own body, wanting to encourage her to touch her back. She made to slip her fingers beneath Brittany's dress to touch her more intimately but was met with the cold rebuff of Brittany throwing herself up in alarm.

"No," she yelped.

She nearly threw Santana off in the process. The Latina hissed, enraged.

"So you're going to deny me then?" She got off the bed and wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her body, storming across to her vanity mirror. "A disappointment. Servants who can't obey are better off dead."

Brittany sniffled, a distressed mess that was curled up on the bed in a ball.

"Is there no honour in being my lover? Many people would think it a delight to be in your position." Santana sat down and stared at her reflection, knowing this statement was a fact. "You accepted your role when you first came to _El Palacio_. You were reluctant at first but you never stopped me."

Brittany said nothing but a few heart-wrenching squeaks heaved out of her crumpled form.

Rolling her eyes, Santana stood. "Oh for heaven's sake child, stop crying or I'll be forced to silence you in some way. Really, anyone would swear I'd attacked you."

Removing her arms from her face, big pools of light blue looked up at the woman, sad and large and laced with tears. "I'm sorry...it's just...I...I don't know if I can do this."

"Hush. Of course you can. There isn't nothing to it."

"But I can't remember..."

"And so what?" Santana sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned for the youngster to come to her. When Brittany didn't do so, she frowned. "Come." Shifting across the bed, Brittany came to sit beside Santana who gathered her into her arms like a mother would do to comfort a child. "It's not exactly something you can forget. Sex I mean. It's like riding a bike. Once you learn you can just do it."

"But I can't remember whether I can ride a bike or not," Brittany answered.

Holding in a chuckle at her servant's naivety, Santana said. "Well I'll be damned if I don't get my way. Lie down."

Brittany did nothing and growing agitated, the Lopez woman exerted her strength. Shoving Brittany down on the bed, she towered over her, straddling her. "I told you to lie down, didn't I?"

Brittany nodded, meek. Santana felt her heart crack slightly in her chest. She almost told Brittany in that moment that it was all a lie and that she was deceiving her. It was only the shaking of the animal in her womb that stopped her. She was aching. She had to touch her. She had to make her believe that this was what they were.

"I could make you feel good you know?" She murmured and dipping her head to the other woman, she began to very gently nibble on her earlobe. A soft guttural moan escaped Brittany's mouth.

Encouraged, Santana moved her lips down to Brittany's jawline, nipping away hungrily along her beautiful floral skin. This is what she wanted. To have her body all over Brittany's and to have Brittany responding to her. Reaching a hand down between them, Santana dragged her fingers along Brittany's left breast, trying to claim her with an almost fearful desperation. A voice seemed to be screaming in her head. _Do it now!_ _She's yours. She's all yours._

The heat between Santana's legs was like a flickering fire. It kept licking into her core. It was teasing her. It made her feel truly alive. Closing her mouth down on Brittany's, she began to worship the woman with kisses. Brittany reciporocated well enough. It seemed that she could handle this kind of proximity. Kneading her breast, Brittany arched up and into Santana, murmuring in pleasure.

"You see!" Santana said as if this proved her point, "doesn't this feel good?"

She slid her hand down Brittany's stomach and up under her nightdress. The blonde shifted uncomfortably, aware of what she was doing. Santana sought to distract her by running her tongue along her bottom lip, asking for entrance. Her nails dragged their way up the woman's thigh, hard and deliberate, knowing their course. Brittany met Santana's tongue with her own, whimpering nervously. Santana had never felt more aroused in all her life. Her body was flush with aching. It almost felt as though she might not control the orgasm that was coursing its way up her body, wanting to reach its climax. She had not even been touched herself by Brittany as of yet and here she was...hot...sticky...desiring. How could this one woman do this to her?

"Mistress...Mistress please," Brittany tried to pull away from Santana, "Mistress..." she shifted away from her travelling fingers, "no! I can't. No. Please." She managed to get free of Santana's grip and launched herself from the bed, putting as much space between them as possible.

Santana could see how Brittany's legs trembled. Her chest was rising and falling quickly and her eyes, dilated with arousal were wide and terrified. Standing, the Latina sighed and gestured between them.

"So this is how it is? You _are_ going to refuse me?"

Brittany bowed her head respectfully. "I don't mean to be –"

"Get out," Santana said quietly under her breath, so quiet that Brittany didn't even hear her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Get out! I said get out! Get out! Get out! GET OUT! YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD FOR NOTHING LITTLE TEASE! GET OUT!" Santana couldn't help it. She charged forward and Brittany scampered off as fast as her long legs could carry her. The woman threw open the door and without even looking over her shoulder, hurried out into the hallway, disappearing like a flash of lightening. There one minute and gone the next.

Slamming the door with a hard and frustrated growl, Santana sunk against its cool smooth surface, still burning with need.

"Little bitch," she muttered talking to herself wildly, "she will give in. She can't run away from me forever. I'll make her! I'll make her do what I want. I didn't come up with all these ridiculous lies to not get my own way. I'll make her!"

...GLEE.

An hour had passed and Brittany was still an absolute nervous wreck. Lying in the warmth of her bed, the young blonde sought comfort from her sheets, hoping they would somehow perform a kind of magic on her, make her invisible for the rest of her life.

When she considered it, Brittany didn't really have much of an idea about what had happened between herself and Mistress Santana a little while ago. It didn't make sense in her head though she tried quite desperately to make it feel less alien. It was uttely preposterous. She, Brittany...innocent and stupid...a sex slave? No. It just didn't add up. Brittany knew nothing of how to please people. She kept trying to think back to before the accident. She wanted to _try_ and find the memories of her time with Santana – of their "activities" – but all she could see was a murky pool of nothingness. It was all very tiring on her poor, tortured mind.

Wiping the fresh tears that fell down her face, Brittany nuzzled her nose into her pillow. She had been crying ever since she had returned to her room that night. Her body was worn down, pulsing with this unknown hunger that she only felt around Santana, and she was embarrassed somewhat that she couldn't at least give what was expected of her. Santana had been so angry with her. The hatred in her eyes when she had chased Brittany from her suite was evidence that Brittany had displeased her Mistress beyond anything she had ever done before. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't meant to do it. She just didn't understand. She didn't want to be a plaything. She just wanted to be free. She wanted to get away from _El Palacio._ She wanted to feel the reassuring arms of someone who loved her. She wanted her family...dead as they might be. She wanted to be dead _like_ them. She wanted to be a normal human being.

Brittany's thoughts were broken by a sudden swishing noise over the other side of the room. Jumping anxiously, she turned her startled gaze to the sound, expecting to find her Mistress had entered her hiding place, but instead found only a piece of paper resting on the floor. It had obviously been pushed under the door.

Standing, the youngster tiptoed across to the other side of the room, frightened that any noise she made would wake the entire household, and slowly bent down to retrieve the paper. Taking it back over to her bed, she sat on the edge of the mattress, unfolded it and began to read the neat written words that took up its clean white surface.

_Brittany. _

_Words cannot describe how much you have disgraced me tonight in your refusal to do my bidding. Had you been a different servant (for you have pleased me so thoroughly in the past) I would've punished you severely. You may believe you're not capable of having been my lover once but you are mistaken. You are mine. Your body has always belonged to me. I will not allow you to shy away from your responsibilities in satisfying me. That is your soul purpose on this earth._

_In my haste to make you see sense, I will offer you a little time to adjust to the idea. I am nothing if not a fair. Tomorrow, before you have even risen to work, I will have left El Palacio with Mr Puckerman to take care of business abroad. I will be gone for no more than two days. In that time, I will have expected you to have come to grips with what I have relaid to you tonight. When I return I expect you in my bed, willing and submissive. Refusual to do as I order will result in nothing less than a punishment. Do as I ask and all will be well. Please me greatly and I will reward you. As I said, I am nothing if not fair._

_While I'm away I expect you to behave as you normally would. Tell no servant of what I have told you. This is my business. _You_ are my business. If you confess to anyone of our arrangement then that too, will result in your punishment and of course, those you confide in will receive the same. A word of caution child. I am not to be teased as you have done tonight. I grow tired of your coy ways and wish to have my bed warmed again. If you fail to pleasure me, I will do as I have done with all my servants who are beyond their natural functions. I will dispose of you. _

_Consider what I have said. You have angered me to the highest degree. You have left me unsatisfied. I will return in two days, _still_ unsatisfied. Do not disappoint me. _

_Mistress. _

Brittany must've read and re-read the letter over and over again until her head pounded against the strain of tyring to take it all in. It was like she was having a nightmare and all she wanted was to wake up and find that the world wasn't this mess. Dropping the paper to the floor, Brittany collapsed back into her mattress, covering her eyes with her arm and breaking down in tears. She had no choice. Santana hadn't given her another option, just time – short indeed – to try and make sense of what she was. A slave. A whore. _The Mistress's whore._

There was nothing she could do. She'd tried to run away before and that hadn't helped and she wasn't allow to tell anyone about her problem (it was killing her inside that she couldn't talk to Quinn). She wasn't allowed to refuse Santana. The Mistress had made it _perfectly_ clear what would happen to her if she did. There was nothing. Oh what could she do? How could she cope?

With her thoughts turning over wildly in her head, Brittany cried herself to sleep late into the dark morning where even in dreams she could not escape her fate...

...GLEE.

Santana paced back and forth in her room for the third time that night, grinning wickedly, almost madly. The letter would seal the deal. She knew it. _I will be obeyed_, she thought coldly.

Brittany would have but two days to try and accept her role as Santana's plaything. Just two days and when Santana returned, she would finally have what she'd wanted since the young servant had come to _El Palacio. _

_Mine. _

**There you go. Another chapter just for you guys. I hope you're pleased with what I came up with. Some of you may even be shocked and appalled with what Santana is doing but remember, this is a love story. You all just have to be patient. Nonetheless, review please and let me know what you think. Just a hint...I love loooooooonnngggggg reviews. ;) **

**Thanks. **


	13. PERMANENT HIATUS

Due to people being very very _VERY_ rude about my lack of updates, I have decided to delete my account on fanfiction. I am sick to death of people demanding updates and saying that I should be on fanfiction 24/7. It's completely unnecessary. I am sorry to those whom have been waiting patiently for updates but if you're not willing to wait why should I update? I have a life. When I first opened this account it was a bit of fun, something I enjoyed doing but thanks to all the rude reviewers, I've had more than enough and its now become more of a chores than anything else.

Thank you.

My stories are now on PERMANENT HIATUS!


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